


Avengers' Oneshots

by irishgirl321



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Ironman, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Avengers AU, Avengers/Reader - Freeform, AvengersXReader, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Reader Insert, Romance, Sexual Themes, Violence, cursing, irishgirl321, marvel AU, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 61,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So instead of posting my one shots as separate bits of work, I've decided to post them all in one story. They follow no particular order or storyline (unless otherwise stated), and they are all Avengers Characters X Reader stories.</p><p>Cycles revolve mainly around the original MCU 6 + Loki, and will normally include one one shot per character per round. Other MCU characters will also get oneshots but there will be less for them than for the aforementioned 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams (Steve Rogers X Reader)

You didn't even realize that you had been screaming at first. You were too caught up in the nightmare, choking with terror and fear as your heart pounded in your chest.

You jolted awake, thrashing around wildly as the bedsheets tangled around your legs and those horrid images continued to flicker infront of your eyes. A chunk of light suddenly cut through the darkness and fear as someone yanked open the door to your bedroom and rushed in. You shrunk back against the headboard, whimpering in terror, until a familiar voice registered with you.

"_____! Calm down, _____! It's me, Steve"

"Steve?" you croaked as he approached you quickly and dropped down onto the edge of the bed beside you. Even in the half-light you could see the concern and worry glinting in his sky blue eyes.

"Another nightmare, huh?" he asked gently, though it was obvious that he already knew the answer.

You nodded mutely, unable to speak. You didn't want to start crying and feared you would if you opened your mouth.

He reached out and pulled you into his firm chest, wrapping his strong arms around you and rocking you gently. You grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and clung to him. Only then, against his solid body, did you realize how badly that you had been trembling. 

After a few minutes, when the trembling had somewhat ceased, you moved away and slid out of the bed." I want to go and splash some cold water onto my face," you explained as you made your way into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door.

You leaned against the cool wood of the door for a few seconds, breathing deeply before you turned and crossed over to the sink. Putting in the plug, you leaned over and gripped the sides of it so tightly that your knuckles paled as you waited for it to fill up. You splashed some of the water up onto your face, and began to feel slightly less shaky. 

Deciding it was time to get it together and let Steve return to his room to sleep, you opened the bathroom door, and then came to an abrupt halt. Instead of sitting _on_ your bed as he had been when you left him, Steve Rogers was now _in_ your bed with the blankets pooled around his waist to reveal a tight grey T-shirt that clung to his well defined abs. 

He had your bedside light on, and was holding one of your favourite books open in his hands. Despite your current condition, the reality that Steve in your bed (something you'd fantasized about since you met him) had come true, resulted in a huge blush creeping over your features.

"What are you doing?" You asked, thanking God that your voice hadn't gone all high and breathy.

"I'm going to stay with you tonight," he answered, lowering the book as he finally noticed you were there. "This is the fifth nightmare you've had this week. Maybe my presence will help somehow... Calm you down, or something?"

 _Yeah. Calm me down. Riiiiiiiiiight._  

His gorgeous, earnest face and sexily dishevelled bedhead made your heart begin to pound faster than it had before.

Instead of letting any of your inner thoughts show on your face, you gave what you hoped was a nonchalant shrug and walked back over to the bed. He shifted over slightly to make more room for you as you clambered in beside him, and before you could touch it he lifted the duvet and draped it over you, tucking it in at your side. In order to do this, he had to lean slightly over you. The proximity of his face and the scent of his shampoo made butterflies begin to stir in your stomach.

"Thanks," you said quietly, snuggling down beside him and resting your head on your pillow.

He shot you an affectionate look and leaned back against the headboard, opening the book once again and continuing to read. You watched in fascination as his lips moved along with the words on the page, and his brow furrowed and raised as the events of the story stirred different emotions within him.

"Read it aloud," you whispered, and so he did.

His voice washed over you, calming and melodic. The feeling of security and peace began to creep up on you, and your eyes began to grow heavy. After a while, he stopped reading and bent over so that he carefully deposited your book on the floor. He turned back to face you and lay down. You could feel his hot breath faintly tickling your face.

  
You forced your eyes to stay open, and you both just stared at eachother without saying a single word. There was a rustling sound as he carefully lifted his hand out from under the blanket. Slowly, he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You swallowed heavily, and then decided to just go for it. You moved closer, burrowing into his chest with your head fitted under his chin. One warm arm draped around your waist, holding you against him. You heard him exhale loudly through his nose, and looked up to see his eyes closed as a blissful expression crossed his features.

"You know, this is very comfortable," he confided softly.

"You should cuddle with me more often then," you replied bravely.

He rewarded you with a deep chuckle, and you felt his chest vibrate with it. His lips pressed into your hair.

"You won't be saying that if Tony and the others catch us in bed together. We'll never hear the end of it."

You reached up and gently tugged his face down to yours, staring into his blue eyes. "I don't care."

He regarded you with surprised eyes, biting his lip softly. Eventually, he spoke again.

"Maybe I will," he murmured. "If you'll have me?"

You stared into his eyes, wanting him to see how completely and utterly serious you were.

"I'll have you," you breathed, and there was a sudden intensity in his eyes at the slightly suggestive undertone in your voice.

Giving you plenty of time to stop him if you want to; Steve lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against yours. You returned the kiss, deepening it, and lifting one hand up to stroke your fingers through his feathery hair. You broke away a few minutes later, breathing heavily. He pulled you tighter against his body and nuzzled into your neck, planting light kisses down your throat.

"Go to sleep," he commanded gently. "We'll continue this in the morning."

"Aye aye, Captain," you joked, pressing your lips against his one last time, before snuggling back into his body and falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	2. Superhero Babysitter (Tony Stark X Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very long Tony Stark one. Why?  
> Because I watched Ironman 2 yesterday so I just felt like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note: The word I use to rhyme with 'Pepper' in this was not meant to cause offense to anyone, I just couldn't think of any other rhyme**

The Avengers' Public Relations Officer.

It had sounded like a dream come true when you first heard the job description. Exactly the type of job that promised not to be boring and mundane like your last one. You had envisioned it all as you attended the various call-back interviews and began to sign all the legal documents that swore you to secrecy about all the things you would see and hear working for the Avengers. You dreamed of hanging out with superheros and attending the fabulous parties at Stark Tower to distract yourself while SHIELD rooted through your background, examining every detail of your life.

And eventually you were cleared. You got the job, mainly due to the instant friendship you formed with Natasha Romanoff upon meeting the group, and how hard she pushed the people in charge of the program to choose you. Then your life with the Avengers began.

You moved into an apartment a block away from Stark Tower, but you were barely ever home. Turns out "Avengers' Public Relations Officer" was just a fancy word for "Superhero Babysitter"

They took up all of your time. Your day consisted of trying to teach Steve how to use different pieces of technology (which all in all wasn't that hard, he picked it up pretty quickly), trying to convince Bruce to leave the lab for five minutes to actually go outside and enjoy sunlight, attempting to find Clint when he got irritated at something and disappeared off into the vents, and continuously running back and forth to the supermarket to re-stock the fridge after Thor came to visit. On top of that you had to do your actual JOB, which was to arrange public appearances and handle the press. Natasha, meanwhile, just followed you around as you ran from task to task, chatting to you all the while.

But while they may have taken up your entire day, it was Tony Stark who took up your nights. And not in the way you would have liked.

The reason they had needed someone to look after them in the first place was because Pepper Potts, Tony's then-girlfriend, got sick of him and walked out on both him and Stark Tower, so the Avengers basically lost their nanny. You couldn't really blame her, at times Tony made you want to quit your job: Especially when you had to crawl out of your bed in the middle of the night to drag the billionaire out of some nightclub or stripclub before the paparazzi could get a picture of him doing something reputation-destroying.

As well as that he wrecked havoc back at the Tower, throwing various parties with random guests that left the place trashed and the rest of his team without sleep. 

Not knowing what else to do, you began to to push back your other tasks in order to make time to talk to Tony, like a therapist. It had taken awhile, at first he wouldn't even look at you as you sat in the room alone together, but eventually he began to trust you, and then he started to open up to you.

That was when you fell for him; When the cracks in his armour appeared and the fundamentally good, but damaged man underneath shone through. There was something about him, how he tried to hide how sensitive he was, his wit and humour, and his kindness, and it drew you. It kind of hurt when he was so hung up over Pepper when you were right there, but you let it go because at that moment he needed a friend more than anything. You didn't hold much faith in anything happening between the two of you anyway.

You'd watch him begin to get better, and then Pepper would call over to consult him about something in Stark Industries. You guessed she thought that she and Tony could still be friends at first. He sure acted like nothing was wrong. But as soon as she left he'd relapse, gulping down alcohol like water and texting girls. You were pretty sure he'd taken you off speed dial to make room for one of his booty calls.

Eventually Pepper quit Stark Industries altogether as she grew uncomfortable with how Tony started to act around her. This was due to his phase of sadness at her leaving ended, and he became obsessed with getting her back. 

Tony, being highly intoxicated at/all the time, decided the best way to do this was to serenade her with a love song. None of the traditional ones would do, so he wrote one himself. 

Needless to say it was monstrous. Being incredibly wasted he couldn't think of many words that would rhyme with 'Pepper,' so he used the only word his addled mind was able to come up with. 

The situation ended with you and Bruce attempting to stop him as he stood on a table, playing a guitar terribly, and singing "Pepper, oh, Pepper, my lovely sweet leper" while the woman in question stared in shock and Clint cried laughing on the sofa. After that she sent a resignation letter and never came back.

At the start he took it hard, but you made sure to keep his day full of things to distract him so he couldn't dwell on any of it. Months passed and he got happier, and you were glad. You stopped running into random girls in the hall in the morning, which was a sure indicator of him getting better.

And then it started. Tony began to invite you out to places with him, give you thoughtful little gifts for no reason. You were never alone at his parties, he always somehow managed to keep you on his arm, in the limelight for all to see. Rumours of a relationship between the two of you started circulating, and even Natasha asked you a number of times if they were true. 

Suddenly you became aware that he was constantly looking at you like he was trying to figure something out. You had no idea what.

* * *

You lay on the leather sofa in the living room of Stark Tower with your headphones in and your eyes closed. With Thor in Asgard, Clint and Natasha on a mission, Steve gone out somewhere and Bruce in his lab you were finally getting some peace. You had no idea where Tony was, but you were too exhausted to go look for him.

Turns out you didn't have to. He was looking for you.

The earbuds were suddenly yanked out of your ears and your eyes flew open in shock.

Tony leaned over you, grinning down.

"I was calling for you" He told you.

"I had headphones in" You replied, butterflies in your stomach at his smile.

"I noticed" He teased lightly, before dropping them onto your face.

You flinched as they hit you, but they were tiny and didn't hurt.

"Have I told you I hate you?" You asked, swinging your legs over the side of the sofa and sitting upright.

"Yes. And it wounds me every time" He sighed dramatically, before reaching out a hand and pulling you up to your feet, "Come on. I have something to show you"

You went to pull your hand out of his grip, but he just shook his head, held it tighter, and entwined his fingers with yours. You rolled your eyes, but you were secretly pleased. He led you through the many corridors of Stark Tower, until you entered an elevator. When you got in he turned to you, and there was an excited look on his face.

"Close you eyes" He commanded, holding up a tie.

Hoping that it wasn't a prank, you did as you were told.

"What are you doing?" You asked as he blindfolded you.

"You'll see" Was all he said in response.

You felt the elevator beginning to move, and the feeling of travelling through the air when you couldn't see anything made you oddly uncomfortable. You reached for Tony again, and his fingers bumped into your searching ones. He took your arm and linked it through his, and you continued the elevator ride in silence.

Eventually there was a 'ding!' as you reached your destination, and you turned your head in his general direction inquisitively.

"Don't worry, I'll guide you" He reassured you, and you nodded.

He led you out of the elevator, and immediately you felt a small breeze stir your clothing. Were you on the street?

"Ready?" He said a little nervously, and you felt him begin to untie the blindfold.

A chink of light cut through the darkness as he loosened it, and then your vision was unobscured as he moved it away.

"Ta-dah!" He said a little shyly, spreading out his arms as you took in the scene infront of you.

You were at the very top of Stark Tower. Not the balcony he always entered through when in his suit, but the very top of the building. You'd never been up here before, and were unsure if any of the others even had. 

But that wasn't what had you so shocked. Set out infront of you was a small candlelit table, silhouetted against the New York skyline. Two chairs were positioned infront of two set places, a large silver dish covered what you suspected was food. The whole scene was like something from a French romance film.

"Oh my God" You breathed, turning to look at Tony with wide eyes.

He had his hands on his pockets and his head lowered, looking up at you with a boyish grin on his handsome face.

"You like?" He asked softly.

"I love" You agreed, and then after a pause; "What's the occasion?"

"Can't I just do something nice for my favourite girl?" He said, leading you forward by the hand again towards the table. 

"Favourite girl? Are you trying make me one of your booty calls here, Stark? Because I can assure you it won't work" You joked back.

He began to look uncomfortable, and instead just pulled out your chair for you to sit down on. He pushed you into place, being all mannerly and Steve-like. He then walked across the table in silence and took the chair opposite you. There was a few moments of silence as he stared at his hands, and you waited quietly.

He then lifted the silver lid off the food platter and passed you a plate of your favourite dish, still averting his eyes from you as he settled back down with his own.

Finally he looked up at you, and quietly said; "You know you're way more special than any of those other girls"

This made you blush and look down at your lap, "I was joking, but that's nice of you to say" You replied.

"Look... ______" He let out a shaky laugh, "I was gonna save this little talk for later... But since you brought up those girls I may as well get it over now. I suppose, it's better than me getting all worked up about it the entire night"

You were really confused at his rambling and sat without touching your food.

"Are you drunk?" You asked condescendingly, staring at him.

"No" He laughed edgily, "Just very nervous"

"Why?"

"Because I know everyone else's, and probably your, opinions of me" He bit his lip and you watched the candlelight flicker over his face.

That made you laugh incredulously before you could stop yourself; "Honestly, Stark, you have no idea what I think of you"

"Mind telling me? Because the past few months I can't seem to get you and what you must think of me out of my head"

"What?" You froze.

"You heard me" He watched you closely, examining your reaction to his words.

"Tony, what are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath, put down his fork, and then launched into a speech:

"You didn't come at a good time, ______. I was a mess. I didn't notice you at first, I was too self-pitying. I'm sorry for that. But then, one day I found myself waiting for you to show up for our talks. You were running late, and I found myself... Worrying about you. Working with us, it's dangerous. I suddenly became afraid that someone had taken you, for some strange, overly paranoid reason. It was the first time since Pepper left that I'd actually cared about someone apart from myself. It startled me. That was when I realized that on that I actually cared about you. As it turns out you just weren't on time because you got stuck in an air vent looking for Clint" 

"You care about me... How, exactly?" You asked slowly, wanting to be sure that you weren't misinterpreting things.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, "I like you, ______"

Okay. Wow. You felt your heart soar in your chest and had to fight back the big, goofy grin breaking over your features.

"Cool" You said, teasing him.

You then picked up your fork and started to eat your food without sparing him another glance. You could feel his eyes on you, but you completely ignored him.

"_____?" 

He sounded so puzzled that you literally swallowed back your giggles.

"Yes, Tony?"

"... Do you have anything to say to what I just told you? It took a lot of courage to say it..."

"I suppose I could tell you my views on the matter" You sniffed.

"That would be appreciated, thanks" He shook his head and you could tell he was beginning to get annoyed.

You decided to just put him out of his misery, you'd had your bit of fun.

"I like you too, silly" You chuckled.

"Was that really so hard to say?" He said to you, but you could hear the delight in his tone.

"I was going to tell you, but then I suddenly grew afraid that you might write me a love song" You quipped back with a cheeky smirk.

He shook his head at you, but he was still smiling gently.

"So, would you like to consider this a first date?" He asked playfully, "As you can see, I put a lot of effort and thought into this. I surely hope you'll agree to a second one after we're done tonight?"

"I suppose" You sighed, flickering your eyes up to him.

He let out a loud sigh, and slumped back in his chair to run his gaze up and down your body.

"______ _________, you are such a goddamn tease"

"Get used to it"

"Don't worry, babe, I plan to"


	3. Complications (Clint Barton X Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kinda short Assassin!ReaderXClint one (I have a super long Clint one in the works, because he is my baby and I love him the most).

There was a distant sound of cars passing and people calling to one another outside. Ordinary, everyday people with ordinary, everyday lives. None of them had to deal with the situation that you were currently facing at that moment.

You were lost in thought, thinking about how confusing and messed up this situation had gotten, and how on earth you could somehow fix it so everything would work out okay. Your stomach was in knots, you knew your hair probably was too. With everything going on, any kind of grooming apart from showering and brushing teeth had gone out the window.

_He was an assignment. Only an assignment._

You had tried to tell yourself that so many times over the course of the last few months, attempting with all your might to dissuade the forbidden, complex feelings growing in your heart. In the end it was all completely futile.

_He was more. He had turned out to be so much more._

You perched on the edge of the bed, and looked at him sitting in the armchair across from you. The way the lamplight hit him left half of his face in shadow, but you could still see the deep frown ingrained on his face. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his legs, and his hands clasped infront of him. He was gazing at the carpeted floor infront of him, lost in thought.

You stared at him, and consoled yourself with the deep-rooted knowledge that this would have happened anyway. It couldn't have been prevented, nothing you or anyone did would have stopped it.

Trying not to fall in love with Clint Barton was like trying to put skinny jeans on wet legs: it just didn't work.

You hadn't meant for this to happen. But it had. And nothing was going to change that. Even given the choice, you would not turn back the clock and act any differently. You would not give up this path. Him.

"What are we going to do?" You asked quietly, hugging your knees tightly to your chest.

He raised his gaze to you. The soft lighting of the motel's room lamp made his blue-green eyes glisten.

The room was dingy, but his presence seemed to brighten everything.

"What do you want to do?" He murmured.

_You._

The thought popped into your head before you could stop it, but you shoved it back down. Now was not the time to indulge in fantasies, as appealing as they (and he) may be. There were bigger things to worry about.

At a loss, you just sighed, and answered quietly. "I don't know. All I know that is I can't complete this mission. I can't kill you, Clint. I failed this mission from the moment I saw you."

Your eyes were drawn to the spot beside you on the bed where your handgun sat in it's ebony holster. You felt like hurling it against the wall, but that would do no good either.

"Well I'm glad," he tried to tease you, but you weren't in a joking mood and didn't smile back.

"It's just... What do I do from here? If I go back and tell them I failed they'll punish me and send someone else to kill you. Someone who won't stop. And if you out them down, they'll just send another. And then another. It'll never stop. And if I stay here with you, they'll never stop hunting us. And... And they'll kill my family as punishment," you said miserably, feeling tears spill over your cheeks.

The horrid images of what you knew would happen if you betrayed the people you worked for flickered infront of your mind. You had seen photographs of what they did to other families of people who they viewed as traitors. Imagining them doing that to the people you loved was... Unbearable. 

You felt your lower lip begin to tremble and tried to control your trembling. You buried your face in your hands, starting to sob.

The mattress you were perched upon sunk down beside you as someone sat down next to you. You inhaled Clint's familiar, clean scent as he pulled you into his arms. He started to rub your back, and murmur quietly and comfortingly in your ear as you cried in his arms. He held you for a long while, as long as you needed.

Eventually, when the sobs eventually stopped and your body shook a bit less, he drew back to look you in the face. He wiped the tears away from your face with the pads of his thumbs, and then with a single finger under your chin, he tilted your head up. Your eyes met his. 

For minutes he was lost in thought, but finally he spoke. "I have a plan that may work, if you're willing to hear it."

"Of course," you whispered, feeling a slight sliver of hope flutter within your chest.

"Join SHIELD. Fury will put out word that you were discovered on your assassination assignment, and subsequently killed for it in order to protect you. You can then start over here. Your employers will think you're dead, and most likely won't care about a body being recovered. That way your family will be safe. From there we can just request that Fury let us take out your bosses, and bring down their organisation. When that's done you'll be safe to return to your family. The threat will be over."

He finished and looked at you earnestly for approval. For a minute you couldn't even speak, just stared at him. Then you flung your arms around and began to kiss his face, neck and shoulders.

"You're a genius!" You exclaimed loudly running your hands through his hair to mess it up. "That actually might work!"

"I've been known to have the occasional good idea," he laughed, happy to see your vigour renewed again.

He gently took your face in his hands, and your hands flew up to cover them. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours. You returned the kiss, leaning into him. His hands slid under your thighs, before he suddenly lifted you up. A surprised gasp was elected from you at the unexpected movement. He moved you onto his lap so you straddled him.

"I love you," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

Even though it wasn't the first time you'd heard it (or even the tenth time, for that matter), the words still jolted you to the core with an electric happiness that was one of the most powerful things you'd ever felt in your life.

"I love you too," you replied softly, sliding your hands up to grip the neck of his T-shirt.

Gently, you tugged him closer, brushing your noses together before guiding his mouth down to yours again.

Your hands slid down to the bottom of his tshirt, grasping hold of it. He knew what you wanted, and allowed you to pull it over his head. Your own shirt soon followed, and then the rest of the clothes.

"I promise," he whispered as he pushed you down onto the bed and moved his body over yours, "we'll get through this. Together."


	4. Sappy Things (Thor X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been sitting on my computer for about two months now... I figured I'd better upload it in the hopes that it makes some of my Winter's Thaw readers hate me less for the three-week exam hiatus I have left them on.
> 
> Love you guys x

Thor wasn't at all stupid. Some people seemed to think he was, but you knew fine well that he wasn't. He was smart, and kind, and indeed intelligent.

But it was kind of hard to remember that when he did things that even the average three year old would probably know not to do.

You tried to console yourself with the fact that as well as not being from around here (like at all), he was also a prince, and probably never made his own meals before. Still, that fact wasn't exactly appeasing when your kitchen was filled with thick, black smoke that choked you and hurt your eyes, and made the fire alarm screech loud enough to make your head ring.

"I am sorry," he said for what seemed the millionth time that evening as you waved the tea cloth around to shoo smoke out of the open window.

His sky blue eyes were trained on the floor and his mouth curved downwards in a grimace. He could have picked up his hammer and twirled it to get all the smoke out, but he seemed to folorn to do anything than stare mournfully.

"Maybe next time remember that you never cook a full chicken on the hotplate with nothing underneath it. You cook it on a tray in the oven," you reminded him lightly, rubbing your stinging eyes.

"I just wished to make you a nice meal," he tried to explain, wringing his hands together nervously. "Heimdall informed me that you seemed to be having a stressful week at work."

"Yeah, that's putting it lightly," you sighed. 

Your mind immediately jumped to all of the names of HYDRA operatives you had rooted out in SHIELD's ranks over the past few days. Some of them had been colleagues, some of them had been bosses. Some of them had even been friends. It was just so damn depressing that you turned out to be so wrong about people you thought you knew.

"I just wanted to surprise you with a romantic meal when you came home so you would smile again," he continued, looking more and more miserable by the second. "I even purchased a small table and set it up like in one of those romantic movies that you pretend not to like."

You followed his gaze out of the kitchen and into your living room.

You hadn't noticed when when you came in due to the fact that an alien prince (you still enjoyed how surreal that sounded) had set your apartment on fire by trying to cook a chicken like it was medieval times, but in the middle of that room was a small round table with an expensive looking red cloth draped over it. It had a three piece candle stick in it's centre, and two places were set. It was so small, you wondered if Thor would even be able to fit his knees under it.

Inspecting the cutlery, you noticed it wasn't yours. It was too fine for something that your junior agent's SHIELD paycheck could afford, and you seriously doubted you could even find crystal wineglasses like the one's there anywhere else on earth. It looked like he'd robbed stuff out of Asgard's treasure room again.

Two chairs were set infront of the places, tilted at an angle toward the kitchen door as if inviting you in. Thor had even managed to set a fire, this one in the fireplace, and burned heartily in the corner, keeping away the cold from the opened windows nicely. Thankfuply this particular fire wasn't filling the room with thick smoke.

You hadn't realized that you'd taken a few steps towards the table until you had to turn around to look back at your dejected boyfriend.

"Oh Thor," you murmured, voice layered with emotion.

He didn't seem to hear you.

"And now it's all ruined." He sounded defeated.

You walked back over to him and picked up his large hand in your small one, marvelling as you always did at their size difference. You squeezed it gently, wanting him to look at you.

"It's the thought that counts," you told him softly. "And besides, I can think of a way we can save this evening. Where's the leaflet for the nearby pizza place again?"

"You put it in that drawer last time we ordered," he smiled slightly, indicating towards the area.

You let go of his hand to cross the room and begin to root around amongst the papers. As you looked through all the various leaflet and club membership letters, two strong arms wrapped around your waist. Thor's chest was firm against your back as he hugged you from behind, and you relaxed into him.

"If we are only having pizza, shall I clean the fancy cutlery off that little table?" He asked, breath tickling your ear as he nuzzled you.

"No!" You said a little too quickly, and he laughed and rested his chin upon your shoulder.

"I knew you'd love it. Even though you pretend you hate those, as you put it, 'sappy things.'"

"You're a sappy thing, you big oaf," you retorted playfully, trying not to smile.

"But you love me."

"Shut up."


	5. Cloud Nine (Bruce Banner X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Brucey for you lovely ladies! 
> 
> Loki's up next, whenever I get five minutes to upload him :)

"Hey" You grinned, skipping into the lab happily.

He turned away from his work briefly to give you a small smile, but there was something hesitant in his eyes. Something was up.

"What's wrong?" You frowned, moving over to him and perching on the desk beside his elbow.

"Nothing" He replied a little too quickly and moved away slightly so that his arm no longer brushed against your side.

"Bruce" You said in a commanding tone, leaning over and sticking your head underneath his so he'd have no choice but to look into your face.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face agitatedly; "I just... I don't think that we shouldn't spend so much time together anymore"

Your merry look froze on your face as your heart lurched painfully. Why was he saying this? He was your friend and the man you (secretly) loved. What had you done to screw this up? 

Oh God.

Did he know you liked him? Was he trying to distance himself because he found it awkward?

"Have I done something wrong?" You asked timidly, talking past the painful lump in your throat.

"No!" He said earnestly, shaking his curly head vehemently, "Nothing like that. It's not you, it's me"

You tried to laugh, but it just sounded bitter; "So your using break-up clichés now? Nice"

"It's the truth!" He argued, "I'm doing this for you, _____"

"Bruce, trust me when I say you're doing me no favours right now" You said, tears pricking your eyes.

"I'm trying to keep you safe here" He murmured and reached one hand up to gently touch your face.

You flinched away from his touch. His hand dropped back onto the book infront of him and he looked at you sadly. You hopped off the table and folded your arms across your chest. You met his gaze angrily, eyes narrowed.

"Are you starting with this whole 'the Other Guy' bullshit again?" You asked dangerously.

"It's not bullshit. He's a threat to you" Bruce snapped, "I'm too dangerous, _____. I'm a time bomb"

"I'm a grown woman" You hissed, "I think I can decide for myself whether or not I want to risk things. And I'm more than willing to risk this"

"Well I don't want you taking that risk" He retorted hotly.

"Why?" You growled, "I'm a SHIELD agent for Christ's sake. I take risks all the goddamn time"

He slammed his hands down onto the desk, and you jumped in surprise. You suddenly realized you were making him angry. He averted his eyes from you, pitching the bridge of his nose and taking deep breaths to calm himself. You stayed silent for that, allowing him the time he needed to regain control. When he looked back at you you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off before you could say a word.

"Do you think I could live with myself if I did anything to hurt you?" He said tightly, though there was an underlayer of vulnerability to his tone.

"You're hurting me now" You whispered, knowing you couldn't hold back tears for much longer.

"This is nothing compared to what the Other Guy could do" He insisted.

Whatever his words were, you could see the pain on his face. He wanted this friendship to end about as much as you did.

You took a deep breath, and stared at him. All of a sudden an idea popped into your head. You debated it for a few seconds, and then decided it was the only thing you could do that would have the barest hope of changing his mind.

"Before you completely throw me away" You started, and he tried to protest but you held up a hand to stop him, "At least let me do one thing first"

His eyebrows raised in confusion but he nodded his consent.

You took a deep breath, unfolded your arms and stepped close to him. He looked down in shock as your chest brushed against his. Brown eyes flickered back up to meet yours while you slid your hands up to cup his face.

Giving him time to pull away if he wanted to, you slowly drew his face towards you. You paused one last time to see if he was giving any signs of not wanting this. It didn't seem so. His heavily lidded eyes were lingering on your lips, and a rosey blush coloured his cheeks.

You didn't move. Waiting. He swallowed heavily, and then leaned forward the rest of the way and pressed his mouth against yours.

It was better than you'd imagined. The way he held you so delicately, the scent of his shampoo, the thin layer of stubble for where he'd forsaken shaving rubbing against your cheek. You opened your mouth and allowed him to slide his tongue in, rubbing against yours. His hands were resting lightly on your back, keeping you in place. The fact that he was actually responding was sending your mood spiralling back up, past where it had been when you came in, all the way to that metaphorical Cloud Nine. 

Eventually you had to break away for air. You closed your eyes to savour the moment for the briefest of seconds, before peering up at him from under your lashes. He was smiling at you, eyes all soft and tender.

"So?" You asked softly, "Do you want to keep doing that?"

He nodded mutely, and you felt a huge grin almost split your face in two.

"I don't know if it's wise, though" He murmured.

"Personally, I think it'd be wise for you to allow yourself to have some fun. This was going to happen sooner or later. And it's most certain going to happen again if I have anything to do with it. Which I obviously do" You said cockily.

He chuckled and pressed another small kiss to your lips, "There's no arguing with you, is there?" 

"Not at all" You smirked, "Now shut up and kiss me again"

And so he did.


	6. Names (Loki X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a rather long Loki one that I wrote when I was meant to be studying for my exams... (Yes, I'm well aware I'm probably going to fail them).
> 
> Next one will be the Natasha one on my computer (though it's more about friendship than a relationship), followed shortly after by Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, and Nick Fury (which I'm currently working on).

You slumped back onto the pillows, gasping for breath as the high-pitched wails of a newborn filled the air. Your hair hung around your face in damp tendrils, and sweat coated your body like a second skin.

"Is it healthy?" You panted as you watched the one of the midwives begin to wrap your child up in a white blanket.

"Perfectly healthy. Congratulations, my lady. You have a boy" She smiled, turning back to you.

Frigga let out a cry of delight and squeezed your hand. You were in shock, but you soon got over it and looked at her, ecstatic with happiness.

"Go get my son" Frigga ordered, and one of the other women hurried from the room to fetch your husband.

Within a few seconds there was commotion in the hall, and the door burst open. It slammed into the wall and Thor swept in.

"Let me see my heir" He commanded, striding forward.

Your eyes immediately fastened on someone behind him. Loki followed his brother into the room. His guarded eyes immediately flew to you, roving over your features to see if you were alright. You gave him a small, tired smile to show you were, and a tender look crossed his features. Then a loud shout of joy brought your attention back to Thor as he lifted your son into his arms.

"He is stunning" He murmured, slowly tracing one large finger gently down the infant's cheek.

"Bring him here, Thor" You begged, holding out your arms yearningly.

Frigga saw the desperation on your face and spoke sternly; "Let _____ hold her baby" 

"Our baby" Thor corrected benignly, and you flinched slightly as a pang of guilt shot through you.

Thor carried the child over to the bed with Loki trailing behind him. The God of Mischief's eyes were drinking in the tiny pale face amidst the bundle of cloth, and you felt a rush of love and pity for him.

That was foreshadowed, however, by joy when Thor settled down on the edge of the bed next to you, and placed the little boy into your arms.

"By the gods" You whispered in wonder, staring at the little pink face.

As if responding to your voice, the child blinked, and opened his eyes. They were the same colour as yours.

"Well done, my lady" Thor murmured, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead.

A hand touched your arm from the other side, and you looked up into Frigga's beaming, teary face.

"I will go get Odin" She told you, "The king will want to meet his grandson"

You nodded and she rose delicately, smiling at the you all once more, and swept from the room. You returned your gaze to the wonder that nestled in your arms. You marvelled at how small he was, marvelled at every single little aspect about him. You weren't sure how long you sat there.

It could have been for minutes, and it could have been for hours. You were lost to the world as you stared down, nestled in Thor's muscular arms.

A sudden cough made you look up.

"May I hold him?" Loki asked, an almost desperate look in his eyes.

How could you have forgotten?

"Of course" You said quietly, shifting forward and out of Thor's embrace.

He stepped closer, outstretching his arms nervously.

And you placed your child in his father's arms for the very first time.

Loki brought him to his chest and cradled him close. He was staring at him with a religious awe you'd never seen on him before, like he was a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Tears pricked your eyes and you rapidly blinked them away. Loki began to rock the child, humming to him softly.

"What shall we name him?" Thor asked eagerly

You thought for a second, and then turned to his brother; "Any suggestions, Loki?" 

"Kailar" The dark haired man answered almost immediately.

He seemed to have given some previous thought to it.

Thor opened his mouth to input, but you quickly cut him off before he could utter a word. 

"I love it. Kailar it is" You decided firmly.

If his child would never carry the name 'Lokison,' then the least you could do was let him have his way in giving the child his first name.

"But, ______, love, what about-" Thor tried again but you shook your head.

"No. I want to name him Kailar. I just pushed him out of my body, I think I should get to name him as I please" You joked, but your tone had a firmness to it.

Thor and Loki both began to chuckle deeply, and you felt some of your internal tension leak away. It was times like these when you could pretend you were a normal family. Not a girl stuck in an arranged marriage to her best friend, the crown prince of Asgard, while being desperately in love with his raven-haired brother, who's child she'd just given birth to.

"Kailar Thorson it shall be" Thor conceded, looking at you affectionately.

You saw Loki avert his eyes at the name, and you felt pity for both of them. Pity for Thor because he had no idea of the child's true parentage, and pity for Loki as for the rest of his life his child would be the pride of another man.

You leaned your head into Thor's shoulder weakly, hiding yourself from their eyes. It would have all been so much easier if you'd just been able to return his love.

"Loki" Thor commanded, "Give my son back to me. You may leave us. I wish for time alone with my wife and child before the All-Father arrives"

For a second you saw dark anger flash across Loki's face, and you were afraid he would refuse. Then his shoulders sagged in defeat, and he carefully handed the child back to Thor. You thought he might leave before saying goodbye to you, but he didn't. 

He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, and reached for your hand. You pressed your palm flat against his and then he entwined your fingers together. 

Thor paid no heed, just continued to coo at the baby. As far as he knew, you and Loki were just good friends.

"He is exquisite, little dove" He whispered to you, and you inhaled a shuddering breath.

"Like his father" You replied, trying to tell him with your eyes all the things that you couldn't say while Thor was there.

He smiled, his own eyes glinting; "His features are that of his mother. Gods be praised"

You laughed and gently shoved him away.

"I'll see you later" You promised, releasing his hand.

"Farewell for now, little dove. Thor... Kailar" He said the last name like a prayer, gaze roving over the little white bundle in Thor's arms longingly.

You swallowed heavily and tried not to cry.

Then Loki turned and straightened his back stiffly. He took a deep breath, and strode from the room, away from you and Thor.

Away from the son he could only claim in his heart.


	7. Girl Power (Natasha Romanoff X Reader)

He was obvious he was enjoying it. He was struggling to hide it, but the little half smirk on his face gave it all away.

You moved forward swiftly, attempting to twist your foot behind his leg to hit the pressure point on the back of his knee. Unfortunately for you he grabbed the flailing arm that you had thrown up into the air to keep your balance. He twisted you over his shoulder and judo slammed you to the floor, earning a chorus of "oooooooh"s from the rest of the recruits sitting around the training ring. You rolled around in agony, clutching your shoulder.

"I think you dislocated my arm," you groaned, fighting back tears.

There was no damn way you were gonna cry infront of them. It would just prove their point.

Jasper just rolled his eyes and shrugged his big, beefy shoulders. "Not my fault if you're too delicate, little girl. Maybe you should just opt out and leave the field agent work to us men."

You struggled your feet, growling. "You think us girls can't handle it?"

The rest of the all-male trainees shifted restlessly, but stayed silent as they watched you redden with anger.

"I'm just sayin,'" Jasper drawled, "that you ladies are obviously too weak for this line o' work, if your skills are anything to go by."

Suddenly, another voice rang out from across the room. "You wanna bet?"

A woman leaned against the door to the training room. She had gorgeous red hair and an air of confidence and danger. You liked her immediately. Her eyes met yours, and she gave you a brief, warm smile before turning her attention back to Jasper. He wolf-whistled at her, and you watched her eyes narrow in disdain.

"Well, aren't you just a lil' hottie!?" He crowed as she unpeeled herself from the doorway and sashayed into the room.

The rest of the men around you murmured appreciatively, but she ignored them.

"Just don't," she warned, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Anything I can help you with?" Jasper asked suggestively.

"Nothing at all, I just heard what you were saying and came to prove a point," she said tonelessly as she stepped inside the white line on the mat that bordered the combat ring.

"You're going to fight me?" He seemed amused by that.

"Yup. Are you ready?"

"How many cuties have to get hurt before you all accept my point?"

"I said, are you READY?" She growled.

He was obviously pissing her off as much as he always did to you.

"Sure, darling. Give me your best shot."

What the woman did next was unexpected.

Moving with the speed of a striking snake, she rushed forward and stepped up on Jasper's bent knee, propelling herself up in the air and seemed to straddle his head with her tighs. She spun and Jasper's body twisted, much like your shoulder had done earlier, and then he was crashing down onto the matt heavily, like a stack of bricks. The woman, meanwhile had managed to flip herself in the air, and landed on one bent knee.

You, and everyone else, stared at her in awe. The fight had been devastating, and had lasted less than ten seconds.

"You might want to check on him." The woman told the other trainees casually as she brushed herself down. "He hit his head pretty hard when he landed. He may have a concussion. And you," she pointed at you. "Come with me"

Not knowing what else to do, you followed her obediently as the others crowded around Jasper, chattering worriedly. She left the training room, you tailing after her.

"We should go to the med bay," she decided firmly as she led you down the winding corridors. "That chauvinistic brute probably broke your arm or something."

"Seems kind like it," you agreed, wincing as pain jolted through it.

"Do they make you train with those apes everyday?" She asked.

"Yeah," you answered tiredly. "I'm the only girl in the current batch of trainees. Just my luck, eh?"

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, then spoke again. "I'll speak to your instructor. That won't be the case anymore."

"But who would I train with!?" You cried in confusion. "I'm not going to prove Jasper's point by dropping out!"

"You'll train with me."

"And you are?"

She turned to look at you then, pausing and offering her hand. You shook it with your own uninjured one.

"Natasha Romanoff," she told you, and you felt your mouth drop wide open in shock.

"You're the Black Widow!?"

"Yup."

"Oh my God!" You began to gush, becoming ridiculously over-excited, "This is such an honour! My name's ______. I can't believe this! Seriously, wow! I-!"

"Stop freaking out. It's making me uncomfortable," she muttered edgily.

"Okay," you paused, reigning your emotions in. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"So will you... Would you..."

"Just spit it out."

"... Will you teach me how to do that thigh-slam thing?"

"Yup. And I could command them to let us have Jasper as a dummy. As punishment for sexually harassing a superior."

You beamed at her mischievous expression; "Natasha Romanoff, I like how you think. I have the feeling we are going to be good friends."


	8. Fifa Skills (Sam Wilson X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Sam Wilson, cuz he's adorable.
> 
> For those of who who don't know, Fifa is a football/soccer game on PlayStation and XBox and stuff like that.
> 
> Upcoming: Bucky Barnes, Nick Fury, and then I'll start writing whatever again. If you have a request, feel free to ask, it won't be done immediately, but it will be done :)

"Are you serious?" Sam exclaimed, flinging the PlayStation controller on the ground and sitting back in a huff.

He glared at you and you smirked back. The smell of microwave popcorn and beer filled the room, and the TV light cast a glow over you both.

"Suck it, bitch!" You cackled gleefully, grinning like crazy as the screen displayed your scores.

_So you weren't a very humble winner... At least you could admit it. And you definitely were an even worse loser._

"It's a sad day when my girlfriend beats me at Fifa," he sighed, folding his arms and looking at you in fake sadness.

"You're terrible at it. Even Thor and his meat hands could probably beat you," you told him, grinning cheekily.

That made him throw back his head and laugh, white teeth flashing.

You watched him appreciatively, a smirk curling your lips upwards. A warm, tingly feeling was spreading through your body as you watched him. He looked so handomse when he smiled.

"Meat hands?" He sniggered.

"I don't know... They're just so big!" You frowned. "Like the size of them! It's crazy! And he can't push buttons properly, he just always ends up breaking them!"

"Like how he broke Tony's iPad?" Sam chuckled and draped his arm over your shoulders.

"Yeah!" You agreed, snuggling into his chest and playing with the zipper on his hoodie. You definitely planned on stealing the pullover later. "Although, in all fairness, he was playing Flappy Bird. Speaking of which, I never knew someone based a game on you..."

"Very funny," He rolled his eyes. "Like no one else has said that to me fifty million times before. That joke isn't even _good_."

You shrugged. "I hate to let a joke be forgotten. And it's good because you hate it."

"Does that make you bad then?" He retorted.

"Do you want me to be?" You flrted, batting your eyes at him.

He shook his head amusedly at you. You just grinned back, enjoying his company. It was nice to have him back for a few days.

You cherished these little moments of normalcy, where you were just the average couple, and he wasn't off racing around with Steve Rogers while you sat in your apartment and worried about him. Times like these made things easier. You could pretend he wasn't racing around risking his life all the time.

"So, what do you want to do for dinner?" He asked, nuzzling into your hair. "Wanna go somewhere, or just cook here."

"I have a better idea," you smiled, shoving him away and picking up the controller again. "We get takeout delivered, and eat it while I continuously whoop your ass at Fifa yet again."

"You're a competitive little thing, you know that?"

"It's a good thing I am," You smirked. "Otherwise I wouldn't have approached you at the bar when you were surrounded by all those other girls."

"I suppose it is," he agreed. "So, I'll order takeout then?"

"More like you're gonna get take-DOWN!" You cried, putting on your best diva voice as you waved the controller in his face.

"Can you be serious for one second?" He groaned.

"In the face of your nonexistent Fifa skills? No," you retorted.

"Oh my God, just tell me what you want to order."

"Get our usual from the Chinese. And ask for extra napkins, because you're gonna get SERVED!"

"_____, if you make one more joke I'm going to go get my wings and fly far away from you."

"You'd never leave me, my Flappy Bird."

"Your jokes are terrible. Like genuinely awful."

"So like your Fifa skills?"

"That's it. I'm gone."

"Fine. I'll call Thor. He and his meat hands will present more of a challenge."

"He's in Asgard."

"And?"

"He doesn't have a phone?"

"Indeed."

"Then how do you expect to reach him?"

"He told me he'll always come when I call his name, even for just a chat."

Sam paused. "... He did? That's kinda forward of him... Did he actually? I'm not sure I'm okay with that."

He was seriously cute when jealous.

"Pick up the controller and play with me and I'll tell you. Or you can go. But that depends on whether you really want to risk it or not."

"Okay."

"Good."

An elbow knocked into your arm as he sat down beside you once again, and shifted around to get comfortable. There was a few minutes of silence as you started up the game, and he stared at the controller in his hands.

"So... Did he really say that?" Sam said quietly, fingers moving rapidly as the game began playing.

"Nope."

"Damn you."


	9. Obeying Orders (Nick Fury X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this ones not overly romantic, I just don't really imagine Fury to be the roses-and-love-poems kinda guy, but I did my best. I'll probably do another one with more romance in it, but that'll come later.
> 
> I know I said next up would be Bucky, and ages ago I said I'd have Coulson, and I will. I kinda only started this to be kind of a side thing that I'd just upload on every now again when I wanted to take a break from my two main series. I'm just a bit bogged down with my fanfiction writing workload right now. I literally just finished my exams today and I have like four days of solid partying ahead of me, so I'll try get everything up as soon as I can!
> 
> But while I try write a Bucky and Coulson would y'all just like me to go ahead and publish the other oneshots I already have written up?

"Remember to keep low and stay to the sides. There's less of a chance you'll get shot that way," Fury growled as he crept down the brightly lit corridors of the renovated warehouse.

"Your concern is touching, boss," you quipped from behind him as you followed with the rest of the agents, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble.

Even though you joked around, you did as he said and kept to the side. Your black jumpsuit was painfully obvious against the pure white of the walls in the corridor. You could be easily seen and getting shot was really not on your agenda for today.

You reached the end of the corridor, and it split off into three separate paths. Fury pointed at the Delta squadron and made a slashing motion, indicating for them to take the route to the left. The unit's captain nodded, face hidden underneath a black visor and they crept away as silent as shadows. Fury then twisted around to face the Echo unit, and motioning for them to take the corridor to the right. They vanished as silently as the first group.

"And then there was two," you muttered quietly, but then shut up as Fury glared at you from his one good eye.

You set off moving through the middle corridor without another word to eachother. But that was just how it was between the two of you. You didn't need words, or even looks, to communicate. For some reason you always knew what he wanted you to do, and he always knew that you had his back. It was strange how well you knew your boss, but you'd stopped questioning it ages ago.

You cleared the empty rooms as silently as ghosts, sweeping through them like wind.

It was after the eighth room that you finally shot him a look, widening your eyes slightly. _There's something not right here._

His lips thinned out and he returned your stare. I _know._

You stepped out into the corridor again, not bothering to hide anymore, and looked up and down. Fury moved to stand beside you, leather coat snapping against his legs. He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud screeching sound cut him off.

And that was when the seeming solid wall at the end of hall slid open and a hail of bullets ripped through the air around you.

"Shit!" You cursed, throwing yourself into the room across from the one you'd just walked out from.

Fury flung himself back into the room opposite yours, flattening himself against the wall. He began to scream into his comms unit, but you couldn't make out what he was saying. You clicked the safety off your gun and held it ready. You couldn't step back out into the corridor or they'd shoot you down in a matter of milliseconds.

Fury then looked at you, and you could see something his eyes that you weren't sure you'd ever seen before: He was afraid.

You were sitting ducks in these rooms. Separated. Alone. Unable to step out to get to the other because you'd just be torn down by bullets. Your eyes strayed around the room, searching.

"______!" He yelled, calling your attention back to him.

You raised your hopeful gaze to him.

"Bar the door. Don't open it or leave until I tell you to. That's an order," he instructed, pointing.

You nodded, but waited until he began to close his too before you shut yours. You ran across the room and dragged the office chair over, wedging it under the handle. It wouldn't hold them for long when they started to try to break it down, but it gave you time.

You looked desperately around the room for some method of escape, something you could do to save yourself and your boss. That was when you saw the air vent low on the wall by the table. It looked big enough for you to get through, and would most definitely lead to another room. Maybe even Fury's. It was your best bet.

Rushing over you kicked it as hard as you could, and the cover crumpled under your combat boots. Outside the room the gunfire increased in tempo as one of the SHIELD squadrons entered the fray. There was no way you could step out now. Either sides could cut you down, accidentally or on purpose.

Throwing yourself into the vent, you began to clamber through the dusty space. You headed in the direction of what you gathered was Fury's room. Your breathing was loud in your ears and your palms were sweaty as you propelled yourself forward through the vents. You headed in the direction that you thought Fury's room was. Eventually you saw a saw a light ahead of you, and you began to crawl to it as fast as you could.

You'd misjudged the distance, and you found yourself peering out at the group of enemy soldiers. You were slightly over to the side, and hidden from the line of gunfire. Just then a man in a lab coat stepped out from the hole in the wall. 

You started as you recognised him as your target: the doctor who was developing weaponized smallpox to unleash into the centre of New York City. He was handed a briefcase, and you tried to crane your neck to see if any of the SHIELD agents had noticed him.

The soldiers were covering him. No one had noticed.

He began to take off in a crouched run, and you cursed silently as he passed you.  
It was up to you now.

Making opening your hand flat, you smashed it into the vent cover. It hurt like hell but you repeated the motion until the cover infront of you until it burst open. Over the noise of the gunfire the enemy hadn't heard you, and you somehow managed to slip out and take off after the doctor unseen. You caught up with him quickly, soon you saw his jacket flapping behind him as he rounded the corners.

Suddenly, there was a burst of static in your ear, and then Fury screaming at you to open the door to your room over the comms unit. He thought you were still locked in there. You had no breath to reply, you could only grunt in frustration and speed up in pursuit of the doctor. You hit against a wall as you turned a corner too quickly, and let out a yelp of pain. The doctor glanced behind him and his eyes widened in shock. He turned and redoubled his speed.

Without warning, he veered off to the left and into a room filled with racks of test tubes and equipment. Spinning, he grabbed hold of a shelf of glass beakers and yanked it down on top of you as your fingers grasped his coat. You collapsed under the shelf, hitting your head off the floor. Moaning with pain, you grabbed hold of his leg and twisted. He sprawled to the floor and the case fell out of his hands and skittered back towards you, bursting open.

Letting out a yell of fear, he lifted the collar of his t-shirt up over his nose and wriggled out of your grasp. He was scrambling out the door the next second. Getting your hands underneath you, you pushed yourself up, trying to dislodge the weight on your back. You managed to through it back just as the door infront of you, and the one behind you slammed closed in unison, trapping you in the room.

The doctor stepped back from the keypad he'd used to slam the doors with a terrified look on his face. You surged to your feet, only to be overcome by wooziness and sink back down. You dragged your gaze to your left, and looked at the open briefcase. A grey mist was leaking from a cracked vial, and as more mist flowed free you felt your head begin to pound faster. Moving sluggishly, you flipping the case close, but you knew the damage was done.

Just then your comms unit came to life once again.

"______!? Where are you!?" Fury yelled, and you were pretty sure you could hear panic in his voice.

"I got the briefcase, boss," you managed to murmur, trying desperately to stay awake as the virus polluted your senses.

Something impacted on the glass beside you, and you turned unsteadily to see Fury hitting the glass of the door.

"I can't get it open! I don't know the code!" He roared.

"Doesn't matter even if you did," you said painfully, dragging your failing body closer to him. "You can't open it or you'd contaminate everyone."

"No!" He shouted, slamming his fist against the door once more. "Don't do this! Don't you dare close your eyes, Agent! That's an order!"

You chuckled weakly, and raised your bloodshot eyes to him.

"Since when have I ever listened to orders, boss?" You croaked, smiling sadly.

His own words repeated back to him at the time made his arm fall limp by his sides. He stepped closer to the glass, staring in at you.

"Please..." He said hoarsely, and you started in surprise that Nick Fury was actually begging.

You gave him one sad smile, before your body began to shake, and your vision blurred and blacked out completely.

 

* * *

 

"You look hilarious," you scoffed as Fury stepped into your hospitable room in a protective suit.

"It's your damn fault," he grumbled, "You had to go and get your stupid ass infected with weaponized smallpox so everyone who visits you in quarantine has to wear a goddamn monkey suit."

"I saved the _world_ ," you gasped in fake hurt.

"New York City," he reminded you as he always did.

"I almost died. Can you not just let me have this one?" You pleaded.

"No," he smirked, pulling up a chair beside you and pulling a pack of aged playing cards out from under his jacket.

He began to deal them into the mattress beside your leg, and you watched him smugly as the various machines beeped in the background.

"At least I'll always have the knowledge that you admitted how empty your life would be without me," you sniffed.

"Like hell I did," he protested.

"The look on your face said it all," you insisted, reaching out to take his hand.

You gave his fingers a gently squeeze, and he glared at you from his one good eye. It wasn't a real glare. There was something soft and warm behind his gaze that he wasn't exactly trying to hide.

"You're crazy, kid." He said softly, but he reached out to gently touch your face.

You blushed and looked up at him from under your lashes, wondering and hoping about just how far this moment would go. Then you remembered he was in that "goddamn monkey suit," so any dramatic I-thought-I'd-lost-you kisses would have to wait for later. Examining him as he turned back to the game of cards, you realized that it may have to wait for way later.

Nick Fury was not exactly a man known for his hopeless romantic nature.

But you were prepared to wait.

These last few weeks of him visiting you everyday, bringing you chocolates and flowers and staying for hours to play board games and talk to you had proved your suspicion that he actually did care.

So you maybe you'd have to sit back for a little bit longer before he swept you off your feet. It was okay. You'd had practise in biding your time.

After all, you did have to wait two years for every new season of Sherlock.


	10. Arrangements (Clint Barton X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Bucky and Coulson will be up soon, I just have this lying around and figured I'd upload it. Because Clint is my favourite for every one oneshot I have of everyone else I tend to have like five of Clint done at a time. My obsession knows no bounds.
> 
> I know the last two have been Agent!ReaderXClint, but I promise the next one will be a normal girl reader with an everyday job!
> 
> Hope y'all are well!

You stepped into the large, well-lit ballroom. Soft music played, and gentle lighting twinkled. It had the air of an expensive event, that was for sure. Everyone milling around was well dressed and somewhat important in this particular circle. As you moved further into the room your eyes fastened upon your target.

Byron Gray was a man of around fifty. His appearance matched his name. Grey hair, neat grey beard with a grey suit and a white undershirt to match. He was standing in the centre of the room, talking to three of his business associates. A Rolex glinted on his right wrist, revealed to the light as his sleeve slid back whenever he moved his arm to gesture. The watch had the look of something wickedly expensive, and you figured it probably cost more than you were being paid to kill him. 

Just then his eyes focused on you. Instantly, you dropped a mask over your features and smiled warmly at him. You watched as he hurriedly excused himself from his colleagues, and swiftly made his way over to you. When he drew close enough he held out his arms to welcome you, and ran his gaze appreciatively up and down your body.

"You look stunning," he complimented smoothly, grabbing your hand and spinning you under his arm.

Your giggling was cut short when your twirl was interrupted as you promptly slammed into someone else's tuxedo-ed chest. Two strong arms grabbed your elbows to steady you as you almost fell back onto the floor. Blushing, you hastily stepped back and began to apologize profusely. However, when you looked up into the man's face the words abruptly died in your throat.

"Pardon me, ma'am."

"______," Byron said, oblivious to your shock, "This is Clarke Barry. One of my more esteemed clients."

The blue-green eyed man with the slightly spiky brown hair smiled, and raised your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles. You could smell his cologne. It wasn't overpowering like Byron's, but subtler. It suited him, loathe as you were to admit it at this moment.

"It's a pleasure," he said, staring into your eyes.

You forced the surprise off your face before Byron could pick up on it and politely returned his greeting.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr Barry. I hope you are enjoying your night."

A mischievous expression crossed the man's face.

"Careful now, Clarke," Byron chuckled. "I see how you're eyeing our lovely ______, but believe me when I say she is far from an easy catch. I've been pursuing her ever since she walked into my life three months ago, and she only just recently began to let me hold her hand!"

You made yourself laugh at that, before playfully pushing Byron away.

"Go entertain your guests," you ordered gently. "I promise that later tonight you can have me all to yourself."

As expected, Byron's eyes lit up with barely concealed excitement. He stepped forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, promising to check up on you throughout the night. You kept the smile plastered on until his back was turned. Immediately, you dropped your grin and rubbed the side of your face against your shoulder to get rid of his saliva. Then, you turned to glare at the still-present 'Clarke Barry.'

"What are you doing here, Barton?" You hissed quietly, making sure none of the other guests at the ball were within hearing range of your conversation.

"I could ask you the same thing, ______. Why are the CIA so interested in eliminating Byron Gray?" Clint replied with a lazy smirk.

"You know why. Probably for the same reason as SHIELD are. He's a threat to our national security, and I'm here to deal with him accordingly," you had to work to keep the anger from raising your voice.

"Well, you see, that generates a slight problem, because I'm here to take down Byron too. Dance?"

Clint didn't even wait for an answer, just took you hand. Knowing that yanking yourself away from him would just make a scene, you allowed him pull you onto the floor as a slow song began playing.

"This is my kill, Barton," you said forcefully as you clasped your hands behind his neck and tried to ignore how good he smelled and how handsome he was.

"Mmmm, I don't think so," he chuckled in response, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer.

You examined his face as you began to sway to the music together, trying to figure out if he was threatening you. His eyes were glinting with amusement, and something else that you couldn't fathom. He didn't seem like he was threatening you. His tone actually seemed almost... Flirty?

You switched to a different tactic, one that had barely ever failed against men in the past. Even highly trained master assassins like Clint Barton.

"Please, Clint," you begged, using his first name. You didn't usually do that, so you knew it would catch him off guard. You pouted your lips and widened your eyes so he could see the tears making them glisten. "Please?"

It was a strange thing to beg to kill someone, but your hit list was in low figures and needed to be pulled up. Barton, with his years of experience, always managed to get to them first. 

He looked startled at what you were doing, and averted his gaze. His Adam's Apple noticably bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.

"I really hate it when you do that," he growled, and you moved closer.

"Please, Hawk," you tried again miserably, though you were internally cackling at his obvious discomfort.

You could practically see his resolve crumbling underneath the power of the 'Puppy-Dog Face.' As if it wasn't enough, for extra effect you rested your head against his chest and gazed into his face sadly.

"I'll make you a deal," he murmured suddenly. "You get to have Byron, but I get something in return."

"And that is..?" You asked curiously, lifting your head.

His eyes trained on you, and not for the first time your stomach fluttered as you thought about how very, very handsome he was.

"You drop this pretending to hate me shit  and let me take you on a date," he said. "Dinner, movie, whatever you want. You've been driving me crazy for months. I know you want it too."

Shock and pleasure jolted through you at the offer, and you felt your lips curving upwards in a wry, playful smile. You thought about denying it, about rebuffing his statement with a condescending laugh and saying something mean. But you didn't. As annoying as he could be, you'd always been drawn to this man.

Maybe it was time to stop fighting it so hard.

"I think that sounds like an okay deal," you teased, and he gave you a relieved grin.

He seemed to have expected resistance, or maybe a cutting remark. His shoulders sagged with relief when you accepted.

Then his eyes fastened on something over your shoulder and he stiffened slightly.

"Byron's watching us," he warned. "We better not let him suspect anything is up."

"Yeah," you agreed, trying not to frown as the sudden loss of his touch as he stepped away from you made your stomach twist.

Instead of just leaving you, he once again lifted your hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over your skin, A light shiver ran through your body, and you allowed your gaze to rove over him, drinking in his handsome features, strong black tuxedo-clad body and perfect hair.

"I'll be in touch," he promised, before turning away and striding off to vanish in the crowd almost instantly.

You didn't realize you'd been staring after him until Byron's unexpected voice at your shoulder made you jump.

"What did he want with you for so long?" He frowned, handing you a glass of champagne.

"Nevermind, By," you said in response. "Would you mind if we just bailed on this party right now and went back to your apartment? I don't want to wait any longer."

"Of course!" Byron exclaimed, misinterpreting your words exactly as you'd meant him to. "Let me fetch our coats!"

You hid your smile in a sip of gold coloured liquid. He truly had no idea what was in store for him. He hurried off to get your belongings, and you cast your eyes around the room but Clint was nowhere to be seen.

"Here you go," Byron helped you into your jacket, and then passed you your handbag.

As soon as your fingers made contact with it's leather strap, there was a loud _'ping!_ ' in the bag's depths. You took it out. The little screen indicated that you had a new text message from an unknown number. Turning slightly so Byron couldn't see, you opened it.

 _'Forgot to say. You looked beautiful'_   It read.

"Who's that?" Byron asked.

"My mom," you lied.

Biting your lip softly, you debated it, then texted back:  _'I have a vacancy for a getaway driver tonight... Interested?'_

The reply was almost instant:  _"I think I can forgo a few hours of beauty sleep... For YOU... But it can't be too late... I think we've both waited long enough. Plus, I don't like the idea of that creep around you for longer than necessary.'_

You chuckled, and slid your phone back into your bag. Byron raised an inquisitive brow, but you just shook your head and linked an arm through his.

"Let's go," you instructed.

Suddenly you couldn't wait for this mission to be over.


	11. Broken Glass (Tony Stark X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a Teen!Reader X Teen!Tony.
> 
> It's based off when Tony's parents died when he was 17.
> 
> I know! STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! I know I promised Bucky and Coulson, and I will deliver. I just haven't had time to write them, and this one was just lying on my computer so I figured I'd upload it to give y'all something to read.

"Tony?" Your knuckles rapped against the wood, "Are you in there?"

There was no reply, but your ears picked up the faint rustle of bedsheets coming from behind the closed door. You leaned heavily against it, forehead presses against the cool wood. You waited another few minutes before trying again to see if he'd speak to you. He didn't.

"I know you're in there. It's just me. Please, Tony, just talk to me"

You heard him shifting around again, the low creak of bedsprings as he turned. Then a hoarse voice called out:

"You can come in" 

You sighed with relief and pushed open the door. The relief drained away almost immediately when you stepped into the room.

It was completely destroyed.

Sunlight illuminated the edges of the curtains, and shone through them in various places where they were torn and ripped. The patches of light only helped to reveal the rest of the mess to you. Pictures hung by their hinges on the wall. Books where strewn across the floor, papers torn and ripped to pieces.

You gulped, staring around you in horror. After a few seconds you moved forward again, only to have glass crunch over your foot from where a picture frame lay face down on the floor. Slowly you stooped down and lifted it up. It turned to reveal the smiling faces of Howard and Maria Stark, with Tony standing proudly in between them. You remembered the day it had been taken. After all, you were the one behind the camera.

You felt tears begin to prick your eyes, and wiped them away angrily. Now was not the time for tears. You turned to the dresser against the wall and gently placed the picture there. You kept your hands around it for a few seconds to ensure that it didn't fall. 

That was when you remembered why you were here in the first place.

You swung your eyes to the bed in the centre of the room and met Tony's anguished gaze.

"Not pretty, is it" He slurred.

Concerned, you quickly drew close to the bed. The stench of alcohol was overwhelming. He reached for the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table, but you knocked his hand away.

"No more" You told him firmly, sitting down on the edge beside him.

He glared at you through bloodshot eyes, and you felt your nose wrinkle slightly as you wondered how long it had been since he showered.

"What are you, my mother" He snapped, and your lips formed a thin line at his words, "But you obviously couldn't be, right? I mean, apart from the obvious things you couldn't be. Because my mother died five days ago"

You averted your gaze to the floor and stayed silent. You had no idea what to say to him. Satisfied with what he considered to be an argument won, Tony leaned for the bottle again. He was in no way expecting what happened next, and to be honest, you hadn't expected to do what you did either.

You leapt to your feet, snatching the bottle up with all your might and hurling it at the wall.

It shattered loudly on the impact, the sound startling Tony. He stared at you in shock as you broke down into tears infront of him. Huge, heavy sobs wracked your chest. Next second his arms were around you and he was pulling you into his chest. You collapsed back on the bed, crying against his torso as he wrapped the duvet around you both and whispered to you reassuringly. 

"I should be the one comforting you" You hiccupped, hand clutching his dirty t-shirt.

"You can't be the hero all the time, _____" He murmured, hugging you tighter.

"But right now..." You choked out, "Your parents just died, Tony"

"I know" He whispered quietly, "But at least I still have you"

"You'll always have me" You promised, laying your head over his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you, _____. You've been great all through this. Arranging the funeral, the wake, dealing with the press... I couldn't have done it without you" He was beginning to sound completely sober by now, "You're my tough girl. Made of the the hard stuff, like iron"

"Irongirl" You joked softly, feeling the flow of tears start to slow.

"And when the day comes that you need me like I needed you, I'll be like iron for you too" He promised. 

He smelled terrible and his breath reeked of booze but in that moment you had never loved him more.

"Ironman" You breathed from the crook of his arms.

You reached up and slowly began to trace the contours of his face. He smiled, leaning into your hand and turning his face to plant a soft kiss against your palm. Your hands then went to run through his hair. It was pretty greasy.

"Maybe you should have a shower" You advised him gently.

"Maybe if you join me?" He asked, leaning down to kiss you.

A whiff of his breath on your face was enough to have you pushing him away. 

"Maybe if you brush your teeth" 

"Alright then. Anything else semi-insulting to say?"

"Maybe you should change your clothes too. Your t-shirt has stains all over it. And it may be semi-insulting but it's true"

"This tough love thing really isn't doing anything for my self esteem" He rolled his eyes, but climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

You watched from the mattress as he dodged the shards of broken glass on the ground, and stepped into his ensuite.

You had been so afraid when you came in of him being completely without repair, and at first you had thought the worst. But after the shock of the room's condition wore off, and he began to talk, that fear slowly dissipated. He would never be the same guy as he was, but you were okay with that. You would love him no matter what. 

He was still Tony Stark. He always would be.

You knew that very soon he would be forced to begin to put himself back together. You would be there helping him all the way. Supporting him.

Because that was all he ever really needed. 

Just someone to be there for him.


	12. Enchanted (Thor X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise that the next one I upload will be Phil Coulson. I just desperately need time to think of ideas for the Bucky Barnes one!
> 
> *WARNING: This one contains spoilers for the Disney movie 'Enchanted,' and I would also suggest that if you haven't seen that movie, you should watch it. It's freaking amazing, and you might not understand this oneshot if you haven't seen it*
> 
> Sorry I haven't updated this one in a bit, my Sherlock and Bucky fics are taking up most of my time! Hope you're all well!

You didn't really mind being a protection detail.

Sure, it could be mind-numbingly boring, but at least you only got shot at _some_ of the time. At first it was the same as any other job. Guard your charge, follow them like a shadow, do not get emotionally compromised.

Jane Foster was a nice woman, appreciative of your efforts to keep her safe, and unlike some of the other people that you'd protected in the past; She fully acknowledged that you were also a human being with needs and wants of your own. She was a smart woman as well, and she as she was an astrophysicist, she knew a bucket-load of stuff that you didn't.

However, one particular thing that she didn't know was how your 'wants' included her boyfriend.

Thor was everything that a girl could want; Tall, handsome, kind, smart, and courteous... Not to mention he had abs that you could probably grate cheese on. And he was completely and utterly Jane's. They were blissfully happy, like something from a movie. You would have found their gooeyness around eachother to be vomit-inducing even without the help of your mega-crush on him.

They were the perfect couple.

 

* * *

 

 

You were sitting on Jane's porch when it happened.

Screaming, shouting, the sound of something being thrown. There was a second of silence, and then you ducked quickly as the window above your head shattered. Shards of glass rained down on you, some cutting into your hands when they had been raised to cover your head. Something hit the ground with a large, metallic thud infront of you.

_A toaster?_

_Why had someone thrown a toaster into the window?_

Snatching your gun from it's holster, you launched yourself upright and turned, aiming your gun through the kitchen window.

There were no intruders. Only a brief glimpse of Jane's rigid back as she slammed the hall door behind her, and Thor staring miserably at the black and white floor tiles.

"Everything okay?" You called hesitantly, not knowing what else to do.

"No" He replied glumly.

His sad blue eyes met yours and your heart lurched painfully when you saw how upset he was. You didn't take pleasure out of him and Jane fighting. Anything that caused him pain was not something that you could ever be happy about. So you opened the screen door and entered the house.

Moving swiftly, you took the small, hand-held brush and dustpan from the utility room and carried it to the kitchen. You could feel Thor's gaze on you, but ignored it as you studied the ground underneath the window. You couldn't see any shards on the ground. The window had shattered outwards, so it looked like all the glass had fallen where you were sitting. Trying to convince yourself that you shouldn't ask, and that it was none of your business, you trooped back outside again. You were blatantly aware of Thor's heavy footsteps on the creaky wood as he followed you back into the patio. You still said nothing, and stooped down to begin to sweep up the pieces of glass. As your arms stretched out, a sliver of the orange street-light fell across them.

A large hand shot out to take hold of one of your arms.

"Your hands" Thor's voice was tight with concern as he took your hand gently in his.

You had to drag your eyes away from where his hands were touching you.

"It's nothing" You tried to smile, "Just a few scraps"

Thor glared at the creeping red lines on your skin, and then spoke angrily as if he'd just realized something; "You were sitting underneath the window when she threw the toaster through"

"Yeah" You swallowed, wishing he'd just let go of your hands so your heart rate would return to normal.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think she knew. I didn't tell..." He trailed off, and plucked the dustpan and brush out of your hands and set them in the ground.

"Wait here and do not touch these" He ordered, before straightening up and striding back into the house.

You sat back on a clear area of ground, and debated disobeying his command and cleaning. In the end you didn't, as the absence of Thor's presence to distract you was returning your attention to the facts that your hands were stinging like crazy. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the side of the house, breathing in the cool night air as you listened to Thor rustle around in the kitchen. Within a few minutes you heard Thor's footsteps head towards towards the front door once again, and then he emerged outside, First Aid box in hand.

Sitting down beside you, he reached out and picked up both of your hands in one of his. With his other, he fumbled to undo the clasp of the First Aid box, and then withdrew the contents. In order to open the packaging containing the antiseptic wipes he placed one edge between his teeth and ripped it open. After that he pulled the wipes clear, and readjusted his hold on your skin. Then he gently began to wipe the cuts.

"I'm sorry" He murmured as you winced.

"S'okay" You heard yourself say, "But... It's none of my business, I mean, but... Are you alright?"

Thor was silent for a few seconds, still cleaning your cuts.

"We broke up" He said eventually.

"Ouch" You were sympathetic, "Well, it's her loss if she's stupid enough to let you go"

He let a slightly amused puff of air out of his nose, and shook his head softly; "I broke it off with her"

"Oh" You breathed, feeling awkward and not knowing what to say.

"You and I, we're friends, aren't we?" He asked suddenly after a few more moments of silence.

"Of course we are" You answered with a smile.

Many a day he had stopped to chat with you on the porch on his way in and out of visiting Jane, and often the two of you would end up spending hours together watching TV and playing board games because Jane didn't like Thor in the room with her while she worked. Apparently he was too loud and distracting.

"Do you remember when we watched Enchanted?" Was what he said next.

"Yeah?" You chuckled, remembering the Disney phase you'd gone through a few months back, and how even though you were an adult you'd watched all the old movies once again.

'Enchanted' had been one of your favourites.

"Do you remember how Giselle fell in love with Prince Edward at the start of the movie? And they were so in-tune with one another, and exactly a perfect match?"

"Yes?"  You asked, becoming increasingly confused the more he talked.

He dropped the wipe and picked up the cloth bandages, which he then began to wrap around one of our hands.

"You see, Jane and I were like Prince Edward and Giselle, but then something happened. Rob the Lawyer came along and Giselle fell in love with him"

"Jane's in love with a lawyer?" You knew that your face was twisted in complete befuddlement.

In the past while you'd been with Jane almost 24/7, and you'd never seen her near any lawyers. Let alone one who could compete with Thor in any way.

"No!" He exclaimed, and dropped the bandage to run his hand through his hair in agitation, "Jane's not Giselle. _I'm_ Giselle"

"Oh. Okay" was your only reply.

He picked up the bandage once again, and began to attend to your other hand, staring at it intently.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" He sounded frustrated.

"Um, I think so? You thought Jane was the one for you... But then someone else came along and you fell for them? They were the Rob to your Giselle?" You said slowly.

"Yes" He sighed in relief.

Your heart gave another painful lurch. You could barely stomach Thor and Jane, even after months of seeing them together and attempting to adjust to it. How tough was it going to be now that he had completely bypassed Jane (and you) in favour of another woman, who was bound to be some sort of royal, elegant Asgardian beauty?

"Well good for her" You tried to appear upbeat, "Whoever she is, she's a super lucky girl"

He glanced at you and you could have sworn that you saw a glimmer of amusement in the depths of his eyes. He then looked away, and as soon as he did the smile slipped from your face and your mouth pursed into a thin line to stop your lower lip from wobbling. You reached over to take the bandages from his hands.

"I can do it myself, thanks" You muttered.

He was quick to take it back off you and resume his task.

"I'm sure you can" He rumbled, "But you look after others all the time. Let someone else look after you for a change"

There was no way that you'd be able to wrestle the stuff back off a god, so you just slumped back and let him continue. Forlornly, you stared up at the star twinkling in the night sky.

_Why wouldn't he just leave and stop torturing you?_

"Don't you want to know who it is?" He pressed, and even though you felt like screaming that what you'd really like would be for him to get lost,  you found yourself agreeing because it was impossible for you to ever attempt to hurt his feelings.

"Well" He started, "She's very smart, like Rob the Lawyer, and a little sarcastic like him too. She's tough, like him..."

Great. Now he was listing out all the reasons he liked her while holding your hand in his large, warm one as his delicious natural scent washed over you and those blue eyes shone...

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you almost didn't hear the last one.

"Excuse me?" You blinked at him owlishly.

"And she's sitting right next to me" He repeated a little nervously.

You had to stop yourself before you did something as absurd as to lean forward and check there was no one at his other side.

"... Me?" You gaped.

"You" He confirmed, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"But why would you like _me_?" 

"Why would I not?"

"But you're... Well, _you_. And I'm just. Uh. _Me_ "

"If this is your method of putting me down-"

"It isn't"

"So... You welcome the idea of courtship?" He started to lose his nervous look, and his grin widened.

You wanted to tell him that heck yeah, you'd freaking welcome the idea of _marriage_ , but then you thought that that might be a little too extreme.

So you just went for a simple; "Yes"

"Excellent" He breathed, and then leaned in to kiss you.

You put a hand on his chest, and pushed him back slightly to stop him.

"We can't" You explained regretfully, even though your whole body was telling you to chuck your morals out the window and to just go for it, "We're on Jane's porch. It's not... Respectful. I'll call in tomorrow and tell them that I've been emotionally compromised. They'll take me off this assignment and send someone else to watch over Jane. Then we can do whatever we want"

You could see Thor was disappointed, but he was a nice person, and so he agreed and didn't kick up a fuss,

"I will find you on the morrow, then" He announced solemnly, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss against your forehead, before getting to his feet and towering over you. You watched his moonlit silhouette stride across the porch, pausing only to pick up his hammer from where he'd left it at the bottom of the porch steps. His cape flapped behind him as he continued into the front garde, and a light breeze stirred his hair. He stopped in the middle of the lawn, and half-turned back towards the house. Even though you couldn't see his expression, you somehow knew he was smiling at you.You held up one bandaged hand and waved. He lifted his hammer in farewell also, and then pointed it at the sky.

"Heimdall" His clear voice rang out.

Almost immediately, there was a blinding flash of rainbow light spiralling down from the sky, covering Thor from your sight. Next second it was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

Thor was gone also.

You were alone in the half-darkness.

You rested your head against the wall, deeply happy, but wondering how on Earth you were going to explain the reason for your departure to Jane tomorrow. 

 


	13. Trading Cards (Phil Coulson X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the long promised Phil Coulson chapter! Hope you enjoy, I only had an hour to get it done before some friends came over, so if there are mistakes they'll be fixed later.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! *Cuddles each and every one of you*

You sat in the café, tapping your feet against the cool, tiled floor. For like the millionth time that day, you checked your watch. It was quarter to two. This guy was forty-five minutes late. It was unbelievable, and you couldn't fathom why you were still here. Sure, you were desperate to sell that card, but were you really so desperate that you would wait near enough an hour to sell them?

When you had spoken to the guy on the phone he'd seemed eager, pretty over-eager, to be honest. Apparently it was the final one in his set, and he'd been searching for it for years. He was willing to give you quite a bit for it, and you could barely fathom that some old vintage card was worth more than your monthly rent. But then again Captain America had always been a pretty popular superhero.

Suddenly, the doors to the café burst open, and a man rushed in, fixing his tie with a briefcase in his hand. He glanced around frantically after ripping his sunglasses off his face, before his eyes fixed on you. They widened slightly, and he practically tore past the surrounding tables to get to you.

"______ ________!?" He asked, slamming a black briefcase onto the table.

You jumped in shock as a loud _BANG_ resonated through the airy building; "Uhh, yeah..."

"Thank you so much for waiting, I assure you I'm never usually so unpunctual and rude, but something came up at work that had to be dealt with immediately" He apologised hastily, offering you his hand to shake.

"It's quite alright" You amened, slightly amused by how frazzled he appeared, "Happens to everyone"

"May I see it?" He asked, looking as eager as a child.

"Sure" You said, reaching into your bag and pulling out a plastic bag, "I put it in here, just so I didn't spill anything on it..."

"Great" He exclaimed, plucking it straight from your fingers as you handed it to him.

"Vintage?" He asked, turning it around in is fingers.

"So I hear" You replied, leaning your elbows on the counter, "You can take it out of the bag, if you want"

"Thank you" He opened the sable and neatly pulled it out between two fingers.

You watched in silence as he examined it carefully from every angle. He held it up to the light, and you had no idea why he was doing that, but he seemed to approve as he nodded to himself and smiled widely.

"It's authentic" He decreed, staring at you from over it's edge, "And it's in mint condition"

"I hoped it would be" You chuckled.

"Can I ask why you're selling it?" He said suddenly, "I don't mean to pry... But you must have a reason"

You gave a short nod and smiled grimly as you glanced down at your hands; "It was my boyfriend's... My ex-boyfriend's... He never came back to collect it after he left, and I don't really have any use for it"

"Oh" He looked at you sympathetically, "I'm sorry if I brought up a touchy subject"

You tried to shrug, but there was a lump in your throat and you had to blink away tears.

"It's fine" You replied anyhow, "I'm getting over it"

He stared at you, a troubled expression on his face. You dimly thought that he was quite cute to look at, and nicely dressed.

"I think I forgot to introduce myself" He added after a minute, "I'm Phil Coulson"

"You told me your name on the phone" You chuckled slightly, "But it's nice to meet you in person"

"I'm prepared to give you cash for it right now" He told you, "If you're still willing to sell it?"

"Of course I am" You grinned, and he smiled and reached for his wallet.

Flicking through it, he counted out a couple of hundred dollar bills, and slid the pile across the table to you.

"So, Captain America fan then?" You said as you ran the money through your fingers.

"Since I was a child" He admitted, "I know it's quite strange for a fully grown man-"

"No!" You stopped him, "I think it's rather sweet. I think we all need to keep in touch with things from our childhood"

His expression could have lit up the night sky.

"Thank you" He said, "I'm used to people giving me strange looks when I tell them"

You waved his compliment away, and ended up confessing; "I still keep a load of my stuffed animals in a closet"

He threw back his head and laughed at that. You watched him amusedly, and then leaned forward over the table towards him when he beckoned for you to.

"I currently have my book of Captain America trading cards in my briefcase" He half-whispered, "Would you like to see?"

"Sure" You replied happily.

He beamed at you, and stood up to drag his chair over to your side of the table. Catching your inquisitive look, he hastily explained;

"It's easier for us both to look through it of we sit near eachother... Sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I can-"

"It's fine" You reassured him, "I don't mind"

He gave you a grateful smile, and sat down next to you, his elbow brushing your waist. He leaned forward to pull his briefcase across the table towards him, and you got a whiff of his cologne. man, he smelled _good_.

"Would you like a coffee, or something?" He asked without warning.

"No, I'm fine" You answered, but he called over the waitress anyway and ordered two lattes.

"My treat" He told you as you began to protest.

He opened up the case, and took out a large book. Opening it, he flicked through various pages in which cards rested in plastic pockets, explaining to you where he got them, how much they cost, and where it was made. It would have been quite boring usually, but there was something about him that made the whole experience unforgettable, and intensely enjoying. When he finally reached the end of the book, you found yourself a little sad that your time with him was almost up. He'd walk out of the café, and you'd probably never see him again.

"And now I can put this in there" He said triumphantly, pointing the card you had just sold him at the last pocket on the final page, "And the collection will be complete"

You applauded and let out a cheer, which drew the attention of the other customers, but made Phil laugh. He went to slid the card into place, but paused at the last minute.

"Would you like to do the honours?" He asked, eyes gleaming as he held the card towards you.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot.

"Really?" You smiled.

"Really" he said seriously, gesturing at the book.

Your fingers bumped into his as you took the card off him. His hands were strong and calloused, proper man's hands. Nothing like your ex's soft, girly ones. 

_Wait. Why were comparing him to your ex? You had only just met him for Christ's sake. You barely knew anything about him._

Shaking your head to get rid of your nervous babble, you slid the card into the remaining slot.

"Thank you" He said warmly, breath against your cheek.

"No, thank you" You smiled, "I didn't think that this would actually be... _Fun_ "

"It was fun, wasn't it?" He agreed, "Maybe..."

You tilted your head at him curiously.

"... Maybe you'd like too meet up again sometime?" He asked a little nervously.

You blushed, and looked down at your hands resting on the table. His were right beside yours, and you ould see his watch glinting in the sunlight.

"I'd really like that" You found yourself saying.

"Great" He murmured, checking the time.

He then let out a loud curse, and jumped to his feet; "Crap! ______, I'm sorry. I was meant to be back at work twenty minutes ago!"

"It's fine" You reassured him, "I'll see you some other time. I have your number"

"And I have yours" He grinned, snatching his briefcase from the table-top and heading towards the door.

Your eyes followed him off their own accord, and he must have noticed as just before he pushed open the door to leave, he turned to give you a quick wave, and a wink. Next second his sunglasses were over his eyes once more, and he disappeared from view.

 


	14. Sunset Sky (Loki X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Loki fans!
> 
> I figured I owed you a happy story after that first one. I hope this will do! Personally, I rather like it, though I seriously hope that Loki isn't too OOC? 
> 
> I JUST WANTED TO MAKE IT KINDA ROMANTIC, GAWD!
> 
> If there are mistakes I'll fix it later, I'm too tired right now. Thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. IOU a Bucky, but I'm honestly so stumped with ideas for that one, so I'll just continue to upload what I can as I try figure a plot line for a Bucky oneshot.
> 
> Next up will probably be a Natasha, a Steve, or a Bruce. I have yet to decide, though I think it'll be Natasha.
> 
> Hope you're all doing okay, sorry I've been so distant this past week. Sometimes writing depresses me, and it was one of those times. I guess I just needed a bit of a break!
> 
> By the way; Name Day = Birthday

As you stood on the balcony surveying the city below, you could hear the tinkling of glasses, and chatter from the dancers and party-goers inside. It was a quiet night in Asgard, and that didn't happen to often. Or at all, really. Most times the parties in the Great Hall broke down into loud, drunken warriors falling all around the place and smashing items. Fortunately, tonight was a far more sophisticated affair, all the noblemen and noblewoman from the various regions of the land were attending a celebration for Prince Thor's name day.

And that was why you were here: Daughter of a lord from one of the further regions of the realm, you had never been to the city before. It was rather mesmerizing, with spiralling gold buildings that pierced the sky and glinted against the setting of the evening sun. You felt that the people inside weren't half as interesting as the view. All the girls your age only giggled and stared at the handsome men surrounding them, mostly notably the royal princes. You found it slightly pathetic, and were content to stand by yourself and watch the orange sun sink lower in the sky. People you could find everywhere, but sights like this were far more rare. The wind gently stirred your hair, and you felt your eyes slide closed as a contented sigh escaped you.

"Most people who were invited to the most prestigious party of the year would probably feel honoured to actually attend it" A smooth voice called from behind you.

"That's because most people actually enjoy parties" You replied without thinking. 

You turned your head to peer over your shoulder, and immediately stiffened. You recognized the dark haired man behind you on sight.

"Prince Loki" You said humbly, dropping into a curtsey, "Forgive me, I meant no offense-"

"None taken, little one" A hand grasped your elbow and raised you slowly to your feet so that you stood mere inches from eachother.

"I just... I'm not overly partial to these kinds of affairs" You continued humbly, trying to avoid looking into his green eyes.

"I'll let you in on a little secret" He chuckled, drawing you closer to say in your ear, "I'm not at all fond of them either" 

"You're just saying that to make me feel better" You replied suspiciously.

"I can assure you I'm not" He grinned, "I'd much prefer to be in the library. At least books have something intelligent to say. All the people our age here just simper and flatter. Very little of what they say actually matters"

"But... You're a prince. Aren't you used to these events?" You arched a brow at him.

"Being used to them doesn't mean that I grew an affection for them over time. I just resigned myself to the fact that they are inevitable" He responded, smiling wolfishly.

"I suppose that makes sense" You relented, leaning back against the pillar as you grew accustomed to his tall presence.

"But a pretty girl like you... What is your reason for disliking these events?" He enquired, his eyes intent on yours.

 "The same as yours, really" You shrugged, "I don't find most of the conversations that go on here all that invigorating. The court gossip that passes from ear to ear is a little bit too much for me at times"

"Court gossip?" He cocked his head, "Won't you enlighten me to what it is? I am most intrigued to find out what is being said about my family"

You winced, wishing you had thought before you brought it up; "Prince Loki, I am not comfortable-"

"Please, little one. I wish to be informed of what the noble-folk say of me and mine"

"Please, Your Highness" You practically begged, "If you must know, ask someone else. I do not deal in gossip, so I am not well versed in what they say. I may have gotten some aspects wrong, or taken things out of context. As I have said before, I do not listen when they speak of such trivial things. There are others far more knowledgeable than I"

He studied you for a minute in silence, and you were afraid that he would ignore your plea and try make you tell him. Eventually, he just sighed and ran a hand over his slicked back dark hair.

"Forgive me" He stated solemnly, "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable"

Your shoulders sagged in relief.

"Thank you, my liege" You breathed, aware of how tense you had been.

"You don't have to call me by my titles" He told you suddenly.

You stared at him for a second, positive you'd misheard him; "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to call me by my titles" He repeated, "'Loki' will suffice"

"I... Thank you. It's an honour" You bowed your head slightly.

He laughed shortly, before reaching out to gently touch your shoulder; "The honour will be mine as soon as you tell me _your_ name"

"Oh!" You exclaimed, before hurriedly informing him of your own name.

You had completely forgotten that you had yet to tell him what you were called. He repeated your name to himself, smiling slightly.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked without warning.

"Yes" You responded a little to quickly.

You blushed as he chuckled loudly, but there was no hint of mocking on his handsome face. Smiling at you, he offered you his hand and you took it in yours. It was slightly cool to the touch, but most certainly not uncomfortable. In a companionable silence, he led you back into the hall and over to the dancefloor. You were more than aware of the jealous stares from other girls, and curious glances from the various people in attendance. Even Queen Frigga was eyeing you with interest from her position on her throne. She caught you looking at her, and instead of looking imposing and disapproving, she gave you a warm, friendly smile. You returned it shyly, and she raised her crystal goblet in salute to you.

That was when Loki stopped walking and moved infront of you, blocking the Queen from your view. You were standing in the centre of the floor, in the very middle of the dance. Loki smiled at you once again, and you felt your face heated up even more.

_He really was extraordinarily handsome._

"Are you familiar with this dance?" He enquired as the music picked up and the other pairs began to whirl around excitedly.

"No" You admitted uncomfortably.

Instead of appearing to be disappointed, as you'd predicted he would, he just laughed.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to teach you then!" The last word was a triumphant yell as he seized your hand and whirled you around.

You yelped with shock as he spun you, laughing with a reckless abandon. His whole demeanour had completely changed.

"It's simple!" He exclaimed, linking his arm through yours and skipping around in a circle.

"You're not teaching me, you're just dragging me!" You half-shrieked in reply, too startled to be proper around him.

"There's nothing to it!" He responded, "It's a lively dance! A jig! You just do what everyone else does!"

So you did. Out of the corner of your eye you watched the people dancing the jig around you, and you tried your best to copy them. The results were hilarious; You and Loki falling around the place and staggering into eachother, laughing hysterically and shouting. Through the blur of people you caught a few faces; The Queen watching you in amusement. Prince Thor sitting at the banquet table, gulping down ale as his friends and shield-brothers cheered him on. King Odin staring at you both with an arched brow and an impassive look on his face. But then there was Loki, dancing with you, drawing you close and spinning you away. It was intoxicating, crazy, and totally distracting.

You crashed into someone, and before you could even apologize, Loki had dragged you away. He led you into a corner, and you fell into him, giggling. He wrapped his arms around your body, straightening you up.

"That was fun" You said breathlessly.

"Very fun" He smiled, "I haven't had that much fun in a long while"

"Neither have I" You grinned, "Thank you"

"I hope we get the chance to do that again in the future?" He asked quietly.

Your eyes suddenly averted to the ground, and you sighed loudly; "I'll be gone tomorrow, after the celebration is over"

He was silent for a few minutes, but then his hands were on either side of your face. He gently tilted you up to look at him. His eyes stared into yours, and all you could think was that his eyes were so gorgeous, and everything about him was so gorgeous, and how you didn't want to leave at all tomorrow...

"Stay" He murmured, "Stay here in court"

"Wow" You tried to jest, not wanting him to see how breathless his touch was making you, "You really are desperate for company"

He let two amused puffs of air from his nose, and stepped back, releasing his hold on you. You immediately regretted having said anything, as it made him let you go. You quickly mentally corrected yourself.

_You shouldn't be feeling like this. He was a prince, and you barely knew him._

"So?" He asked again, leaning back against a huge pillar.

"What?" You gasped, watching as a shard of brilliamt golden light crossed his face.

"Will you stay? There's plenty of room in the palace, and I'll see to it personally that you're taken of"

You studied his earnest face, then turned your thoughts inward.No one would miss you ambacm in your hometown, save for your family and a few friends. You knew your parents would let you remain here. It was not every day that one gets issued an invitation to live at court by a prince! And you would get to see this beautiful sunset sky every night...

Yet those were not the real reasons that you ached to remain here so badly. The reason was this strange, exciting man.

Staying here... It would be tough. People would talk about you, spread hurtful rumours and twist your words. You'd have to be careful with everything you said and did.

But as you looked in Loki's hopeful eyes, you knew you could handle whatever they threw at you.

So you stepped forward, took his hand in your own, and uttered that one little word that changed everything.

"Yes"


	15. Pancakes (Natasha Romanoff X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a romantic Natasha one! I've never written anything Female/Female before, but I really, really, REALLY hope that the lovely ladies who wanted this will be happy with it! :) I tried to make it fluffy, but it's late here and I'm tired so I severely hope that my efforts didn't crash and burn like I fear!

The front door to the apartment slammed loudly, and all you could hear was angry grumbling and your girlfriend flinging her coat onto the hall floor. Her furious footsteps could be heard thundering down the hall. You peered over the top of your magazine just in time to see her shaking her luscious red hair as she stormed into the room. Her face was one giant storm cloud.

"What's wrong?" You asked, laying your magazine flat on your lap.

"Terrible day" Natasha answered, flopping down and curling up on the sofa beside you.

She sighed, pushing the magazine off your lap and resting her head in it's place. You stayed quiet, running your fingers through her hair. Something was up with her, and you wanted to help but you knew that she'd speak in her own time. Natasha Romanoff was not one to be pushed. She would get to things when she felt that the time was right; No sooner, no later. It _had_ taken two  ~~very long~~ years for her to ask you out, after all.

Eventually she spoke after several minutes of silence; "Two of the recruits I was mentoring were killed today. It was just meant to be a surveillance mission, part of their basic training, but something went wrong. They were tortured and killed. Brutally" She didn't speak for another few moments, before quietly adding; "I liked them. They were good kids"

"I'm so sorry, honey" You mumbled, wrapping your arms around her to lean down and hug her protectively.

She didn't like to admit it, but you knew that her job, and her past, took a toll on her at times. This was obviously also one of those times. You had spoken to her about it, told her that if she wanted to quit, if it was too much for her, you'd have enough to get by. Your salary as a doctor was more than needed for you all to live comfortably. ...It was kind of ironic, the assassin who took lives on a regular basis, falling in love with a doctor. Granted, you didn't really save lives, you worked in a local, well renowned and established clinic nearby, and your hours weren't particularly late.

"I just... I don't know" She groaned, sitting up to gaze into your eyes, "It just, kind of reminded me... Of the stuff that _I_ used to do"

"We all have red in our ledger" You replied, twisting the words she'd said to you so long ago as you cupped her face.

"Some more than others" She grunted and shifted to lean against the back of the sofa and close her eyes.

You stared at her for a minute, troubled, before abruptly slapping her playfully on the knee and deciding; "I'm going to make you pancakes"

"Pancakes?" She gaped at you.

"Pancakes cheer you up" You shrugged, "And you know that I hate seeing you so upset"

She debated this non-verbally as you strode from the living room into the kitchen, before calling after you; "As long as you have chocolate chips in it"

"Don't I always?" You chuckled, pushing open the door and stepping in.

You set about turning on the cooker, arranging the utensils and fetching the ingredients. Eventually, after you switched on the oven and laid down the pan, two slender arms wrapped against your face and a warm body pressed into your back. Natasha's chin came to rest on your shoulder, and her hot breath ruffled your hair. She nuzzled your neck, and her scent washed over you. Good, she smelled good. Like vanilla. It was a serious turn-on. You felt your lips curve up in a small smile as you flipped the pancake over and set the pan back down. Your hands fell to rest over her's where they were clasped over your stomach.

"Thank you" She murmured, kissing your cheek.

You twisted around to whisper your lips over hers. Her hands brushed through your hair, and yours tightened around her waist, tugging her closer. Her chest brushed yours, sending little shock-waves through you. She opened her mouth to you and the kiss deepened soon after. You felt yourself beginning to get excited as her hands slid up and down your body. That was when she took a fistful of flour and slammed it into the side of your face. You gasped against her mouth in shock, and wrenched yourself away. Laughing like crazy, you tried to upend the bag of flour over her hair, but she managed to twist it out of your grasp, and began to throw loads at you. You lunged at her, attempting to wrestle it off her. Obviously using some fancy move she'd picked up from somewhere, she managed to throw you over her shoulder and onto the floor. But _gently_ , so that it didn't hurt. You grabbed her leg, wrapping your body around it like a koala. She lost her balance, sprawling onto the ground beside you. The flour flew in all directions, covering the ground, covering you, and covering Natasha. She was on you the next second, trying to shove your face into the the flour-coated floor. You managed to fend her off, and you both sat there side-by-side, laughing, shoulders brushing together.

Suddenly, you were aware of the acrid smell of burning. 

"Shit!" You yelled, lurching to your feet and grabbing the pan.

The pancake was completely burnt, charcoal black and smoking profusely. 

"No" You moaned, depressed that all your efforts were in vain.

"Hey, it's okay. We can make more" She smiled, squeezing your arm lightly.

"We don't have anymore flour" You reminded her, dragging your gaze across the room.

"Oh. Right" She replied.

"... Take-out?" She asked.

"Take-out" She confirmed, linking her arm through yours and planting a happy kiss on your lips.


	16. Caffeine Fix (Bruce Banner X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did some Bruce because I was in a Bruce kinda mood! Next up will be Bucky! (AT LAST!)
> 
> If you want to request a story, feel free. I do accept prompts.
> 
>  If there are mistakes in the story, I'll fix 'em later. It's bedtime right now, you see.
> 
> I'm actually really happy with how this turned out.

Bruce Banner was not a man to strike up a conversation on mere whim. He was shy, nervous. Talking to strangers required meticulous planning and weeks of intense courage building. Especially when it was a girl as pretty as you.

You smiled at him gently, as you always did as you carefully poured his coffee. He knew that you recognized his face by now, knew him as one of the shop's regular customers. Somehow, Bruce found that he always managed to worm his way into getting a seat in the area that you yourself served. You two never spoke, well,  you did, but nothing more than the usual  _"Hi, how are you today?" "Can I get you anything else to drink?" "And what would you like to eat?" "Thanks for the tip! You have a great day now, you hear me?"_ He knew your name, purely because of how it sat proudly on the gleaming silver name tag pinned to your chest. He wanted more, though. He wanted to know _you_. From the first day that he had stepped into the shop, he had been quite smitten with you.

It was your hair, your shining eyes, the way you politely and warmly dealt with all of your customers, no matter how irritating and obnoxious they may have been. It was very... Attractive, to say the least. It made Bruce feel like you would never judge him too harshly, that you might actually be kind to him after you knew what he was. It was this vague hope that he clung to so tightly that drew him back week after week to the coffee shop every second morning. Tony had pestered him numerous times to why he didn't just have breakfast at Stark Tower,but Bruce would never tell him the real reason: Each day you were there, dressed in your uniform with your hair all wavy and that kind grin on your face while he sat stiffly at the table with his glasses sliding down his nose and the newspaper that he was pretending to read laid out infront of him. 

"Hi, how are you today?" Your familiar voice said over his head, jolting him out of the trance he had been in.

"I'm well, thank you" He replied as he usually did.

_Say something else, idiot. Start up an actual conversation._

"... And how are you?" He finally added.

For a second a look of surprise flitted across your features, but it was gone so quickly that Bruce wasn't sure if it had actually been there or not. Instead you just smiled brilliantly at him, and poured him a cup of fresh coffee.

"I'm great!" You answered, eyes focused on the rising level of the coffee cup, "Can't wait to quit at the end of this week"

Bruce almost dropped his newspaper in surprise.

"You're quitting!?" He exclaimed, trying to keep the disappointment from his tone.

_If you were to stop working here, how would he ever see you again?_

"Yup. Finally got another job, hopefully it'll be the big break I'm looking for" You said earnestly as you gently slid the cup towards him.

"Big break?" Bruce found himself asking.

"I got a part in a movie. I want to be an actress" You told him a little shyly.

"That's pretty cool" Bruce admitted, feeling impressed.

"I think so" You seemed pleased, "And what do you do?"

"I'm, uh..."

_An Avenger!? The HULK!? What was he meant to say!?_

"A scientist" He ended up telling you.

"That's awesome!" You looked at him through awed eyes, "You must be super smart"

"Thank you" Bruce smiled.

He folded up his paper and putting it to one side so that he could give your conversation his full and undivided attention. He was extremely proud of himself for having spoken to you for so long, and couldn't think why he hadn't done it earlier. After a second he was reminded that it was because he'd been scared of speaking to you for weeks. Looking back right now, it all seemed rather silly of him. He cursed himself for being so late in starting up a conversation with you, for you would soon be gone. He knew that if Tony had known about this, he'd be already laughing at the irony of the situation.

"Can I get you anything else to drink?" You asked, smiling at him.

"No, thank you" He grinned, feeling more confident at the friendly look on your face.

He could be reading the situation wrong, but he had the feeling that you were rather enjoying the conversation.

"And what would you like to eat?" You asked him, setting the jug of coffee on the table.

He watched you pull a pen and notepad out of your pocket, and hold it up, ready to right. You looked at him and arched a brow, clicking the pen so that the nib showed.

"... May I recommend something?" You said after a second or two.

"Of course" Bruce settled back in his seat, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he basked in your undivided attention.

"The apple pie was freshly baked. It's just out of the oven, and it's super good"

"I'll get that then" Bruce nodded, "Two slices"

"Hungry, eh?" You commented, and Bruce suddenly realised from your tone that you may have been _flirting_ with him.

Before he could formulate a reply to stutter out, you had whirled away to give his order. For a second he found himself admiring your rear as you walked away, but he snapped his head away the minute he realised what he was doing. It wasn't... Like him, to do something like that. It was very Tony-ish of him. But then again, he had been living at Stark Tower, and spending nearly everyday with that billionaire who had somehow become the best friend he had ever had. Bits of his mannerisms were obviously bound to rub off on Bruce.

Bruce watched quietly over the top of his re-opened newspaper as you flounced around the shop, chattering to customers and taking orders. Observing you really was a treat. You were just so _nice_. He was content to just sit there and let you run around, but he was happier when you appeared back bearing two slices of apple pie on a single plate.

"There you go" You announced as you deposited them gently infront of him.

Grabbing his courage with both hands, Bruce replied; "I probably should have told you to get two plates, but I guess we can just share"

You looked confused for a few seconds, until understanding dawned and a faint smile tugged at your lips.

"I can't" You protested, "I'm still working"

"But you're quitting in a few days. Come on, what's the worst they can do?"

Bruce gave you his best pleading look, and got the satisfaction of watching your resolve crumble. Rolling your eyes good-naturedly, you slid into the booth across from him and picked up a bundle of cutlery. Unwinding the napkin from the items, you plucked out a spoon, and held it poised over one of the slices of apple pie.

"I'm only charging you for only one of those" You warned him, taking a scoop of the slic of pie that you'd chosen.

"Then I'll just tip you double the price" Bruce countered confidently.

You glared at him, but he could tell that you were flattered. For a few minutes neither of you said anything, you were both wolfing down the pie. You had been right, Bruce thought to himself. That apple pie was absolutely heavenly. The flavour was most watering. the crust perfect, and the inside warm and delicious. If Bruce had been as prone to dramatics as some of his team-mates he would have said that it was like eating his own little piece of paradise.

But unfortunately it was over too soon.

Your boss rudely interrupted, yelling for you to get back to work. Bruce felt guilty, and more than a little angry as he helplessly watched you get chewed out infront of the entire shop. Customers around you stared and whispered, but you just stiffened your shoulders and ignored them all. Bruce admired you for that, for having the self-control not to retaliate. 

Eventually the man left, and you turned back to Bruce and sighed in defeat.

"Back to work, I guess" You shrugged, looking forlorn, "I guess I'll have to see you some other time. You'll be back another two mornings, right? I know you come every second day, and it's only Monday. Friday is my last day"

"I'll see you the next four mornings" Bruce replied, watching to see how you'd react to that, "Wouldn't want you to leave without getting to know eachother properly. I rather enjoyed our little conversation"

Your slow smile could have lit up the darkest room.

"Me too" You agreed, "... I was kind of afraid that you'd never speak to me before I left"

Then you flushed, turning bright red as you ducked your head and scurried away. Bruce thought it was one of the most adorable things he'd ever seen. He smiled, folding his arms on the table-top and watching you openly as you flitted around, pouring coffee for people and doing your job. The butterflies in his stomach only intensified as he caught sight of all the sneaky little glances you threw back his way as you worked. He felt his lips twisting upwards into a smug smirk as his eyes locked with yours.

Oh, it was going to be an interesting few days.


	17. Heat Wave (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. At last. The Bucky chapter.
> 
> To 'Kneelb4mEyoumewlingQUIM'  
> Straddling: Check  
> Smirk: Check  
> Wooing: Emmm, not so much :/ I'll write another one where he woos the reader in a bit, bit for now this is all I got (my Bucky X Reader fic actually bleeds me dry on Bucky ideas).
> 
> If there are mistakes: I wrote this on my phone while I waited for my family to get back from a boat trip, and sometimes autocorrect likes to change my spellings. So sorry, but I'll correct it later! (I usually go over my stuff after a few days, and tweak little bits of it. No one ever notices).
> 
> Next chapter will be Steve, 'cause I think he's been MIA this round!

It was too hot. Too goddamn hot, even in your room in Stark Tower.

This was due to the fact that ever since Tony had accidentally lost control of one of his suits and crashed through Stark Tower to smack into the power generator, the place had been working with limited power. The air-conditioning was one of the things that people figured they could do without, and basic electricity was what the majority voted to keep running.

But that had been before this damn heat wave came along.

 

Even with the fridge working and cold drinks to go, it was still too warm to function properly. You flopped onto your bed exhaustedly, and ran a hand over your damp brow. Natasha and Clint had respectively dropped in to your room to request your presence in various tasks and fun outings, but you'd been too tired and worn out to go anywhere. Instead, you stayed in your room, stripped down to your undergarments in the hopes that a lack of clothes would make you feel some way cooler. It wasn't doing the trick, however, and you were pretty sure soon you'd pass out from heat-exhaustion.

Your phone chimed on the bed beside you, and absent-mindedly you groped around for it without looking. Finally catching hold of it and lifting it up, you tightened your sweaty grip on it and typed in your unlock code. You had a message from Steve, who had miraculously learned how to text.

_{Bucky and I are going swimming in the pool on the 21st floor... Pool heating not working, so it's nice and cold. Nat said you'd probably wanna go?}_

So Bucky and Steve were going swimming? Hmmm...

Bucky shirtless was something that you had no intention of missing.

With that in mind, and smiling coyly, you typed back; _{I'll be there in ten}_  

You'd had a mega crush on Bucky ever since Steve and Sam arrived at the Tower with him in tow. You had just joined the Avengers, and didn't know them all too well. You immediately found yourself hanging out with this fellow newbie; A man who seemed a lot shyer and more insecure than yourself. He didn't really open up to you at first, just grunted and gave one word answers to your many questions. But you were nothing if not persistent, and after a few long months of bringing him take-out when he was feeling too down to leave his room, sitting in silence beside him as you switched on your favourite comedy movie in the hopes it would make him laugh, and chattering happily to him even when he didn't want to talk, he'd finally begun to talk back. 

And then BOOM: You were in love.

Or lust.

Or whatever the hell it was.

Just then you phone beeped again with another message from Steve.

_{ :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) }_

You stared at your phone in confusion.

_Why the hell did Steve feel the need to send seventeen smileys? The twenty-first century was really getting to him._

You just rolled your eyes good-naturedly, and set about getting ready for the pool. So you snatched up your towel, and then decided you'd just go up to the pool dressed in your black bikini. It really was too hot to wear any other kind of clothing, no matter how light. Slipping a pair of flip-flops on your feet and shaking your hair so that it flowed free, you checked that your water-proof mascara was decent, and then headed out the door. Padding down the halls you started to hum quietly to the tune of 'Holla Back Girl.' You appeared by the elevator in a few minutes, and pressed the button impatiently a few times. You were pretty eager to go up and see Bucky in just his swim-trunks.

"Hey" A voice behind you said, causing you to jump and let out a squeal of fright.

You spun, and ended up coming face-to-face with the steely eyed man who haunted both your dreams and your waking thoughts. It was really almost like your thoughts had conjured him.

"Bucky. Hi" You stuttered.

The elevator ' _dinged'_ beside you, and the two metal doors slid wide open. You barely noticed, you were far too busy focusing on Bucky's smiling face. So he was in a good mood. That was great. It was always somewhat of a downer whenever he was feeling depressed and angry. Plus, sometimes when he was happy with everything, he indulged in a little flirtation, something that you really enjoyed.

"Going down?"He asked, gesturing to the open elevator door.

"Yup" You smiled back.

"Ladies first" he said grandly, sweeping his arm to allow you in ahead of him.

You giggled and turned to skip into the elevator, Bucky trailing after you. The doors closed as you settled against the back of it. Bucky leaned against the wall to your right and the elevator rose smoothly into the air. You grinned at each-other, and you were aware of how he tried to avert your eyes from all the skin shown by your bikini. He himself was in grey swim trunks with a plain white t-shirt over it. And damn, that t-shirt showed his abs off nicely. You attempted not to stare too much, but you were pretty sure that you were failing miserably. He was just so freaking hot.

And that _arm._ You seriously wondered what sort things he could do with it when he used in a particular way that you'd often dreamed about.

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of gears jarring together and the shuddering movement of the elevator. You grabbed the rail behind you and stared upwards in terror, fearing that any second a rope would snap or the power would fail and you'd be left hurtling down to your death. The groaning sounds increased in tempo, and then the elevator ground to a halt. 

The lights went out.

You were aware of Bucky jabbing at the glowing 'Open Door' button on the side of the wall, but it did no use.

"Bucky?" Your voice was shaky.

"That damn generator" He growled, glaring at the closed doors infront of him.

"Do.. Do you think we're gonna fall?" You asked as you tried to calm yourself.

Plummeting down a twenty-nine floor elevator shaft was so not appealing.

"No" Bucky replied after a few seconds, "This thing is secure. I'd just say we'll be stuck here for a little bit"

Oh. Well... You wouldn't mind that. Alone time with Bucky definitely wasn't the _worst_ thing in the world. It still was uncomfortably hot though. and, you were stuck in an elevator with him _half-naked_. That worried you a bit. You were unsure how he'd react to your body. it was a different thing when you thought you were going to be covered by the water, but you were pretty exposed right now. Feeling a little embarrassed at how extremely scantily-clad you were, you crossed your arms over your chest and tried to stop the blush that was crossing your face. As usual though, Bucky missed nothing. After examining you for a few seconds, he silently reached up and drew his white t-shirt over him head before handing it to you.

"Thanks" You smiled before you pulled it over your head.

It was light enough and came midway down your thighs. It also smelt like him, a delicious, familiar smell. You wondered if he'd ask for it back later, or if you'd get to keep it. Really hoping it was the latter, you watched as he walked over to you and rested against the space on the wall next to you.

"I've hit the alarm button" Bucky informed you, crossing his arms, "But there's no reply"

"It's fine" You replied, tugging the hem of his shirt lower on your body, "We can just wait it out. Someone's bound to come along eventually"

There was a few minutes of silence following your answer, and you stared at him curiously. He was watching you intently, and you had no idea why.

"You look good in that" He said suddenly, a strange note creeping into his voice.

"I..?" You were confused.

"You look good in my t-shirt" He repeated, his voice turning husky, "I mean, don't get me wrong, you looked really good in that bikini too. But there's something about you wearing _my_ clothes that's even more appealing"

 Your head tilted to the side and you gazed up at him from under your lashes as excitement pulsed through you. The emotions in his eyes, you'd seen them before, yes. But they had been a much more watered down, less intense version of what they were now. His eyes were roving down your body, the complete opposite to their earlier proper manner. It was intoxicating, how he could change so utterly within a few seconds. You had the feeling that this was one of those times when he wasn't quite completely in control, when he was sharing his mind with the Winter Soldier.

That thought should have made you afraid, but it only served to make the situation that much more exciting.

He pushed himself off the wall and swaggered towards you. As he moved closer, as lithe and dangerous as a tiger, you got a good view of that strong, hard chest and muscular thighs. He came to a stop in front of you, so close that his minty breath ruffled your face. His human hand came up to brace itself over your head, while his other metal hand came up to draw lazy patterns on your thigh. The metal was surprisingly cool, and you felt yourself shiver underneath his cold touch.

"Are you going red because of me, or because of the heat wave?" He asked softly.

You hesitated for a second, before giving him an honest answer; "Both"

A slow, sexy smirk tilted one side of his mouth upwards.

"Good answer" 

His eyes dropped down to your lips, and then back up to to meet yours once again. There they held a question. You answered it by sliding one hand up his chest to cup his neck, and then bringing his face down to yours. Your lips met hungrily, and he stepped closer to you so that you were pressed back against the elevator wall as far as you could. The railing dug into your back, but you didn't care. His metal hand moved from your thigh to travel up your side as his mouth opened and you gently explored it with your tongue. 

At first you were unsure if he knew what he was doing. It had been decades since he last kissed anyone, and you figured he may be a bit out of practise. But after a few minutes it all seemed to come rushing back to him. His tongue lifted to play against yours gently, making you moan softly as his cold fingers continued to swirl over your skin. Your hands went up to tangle in his hair, and you tugged him closer to you until there was no space left between your bodies. Gently, he bit your bottom lip and you moaned quietly, turning him on even more.

Next thing you knew, he had seized you behind both knees and was lifting you into the air. Your back rammed against the wall, and you found yourself half-sitting on the hand-rail as Bucky stood in between your legs. Deftly, he wrapped both of your legs around his waist, and returned his eyes to yours. His pupils were fully dilated.

"Off" He ordered, pinching the fabric of the T-shirt between his thumb and index finger.

"Thought you said you liked it on me" You teased breathlessly.

His answer was a lustful growl as he began to attack your neck with renewed purpose. You found yourself gasping, hand massaging his hair as his mouth trailed down your collarbone, kissing and gently nipping the skin.

"Off" He repeated, and this time you complied.

You yanked the T-shirt over your head before grabbing Bucky by the chin and welding his mouth to yours once again. Your hands fell to grip his shoulder as he began to grind against you, pressing the most intimate part of his body against yours. You could feel from the hard lump growing inside his swim trunks that he wasn't quite yet finished, and you were more than happy to continue. 

His mouth travelled down to yours breasts, kissing the buts of them uncovered by the top of your bikini. He looked at you inquisitively, asking your permission without words. You nodded, and immediately his hands were around your back and fumbled with the knot. Before he could get it undone, the elevator lurched.

The sudden movement had Bucky toppling backwards, and by the way his hands were around your back: You followed. You hit the ground at his side, managing to twist in the air so you landed on your back.

"Ow" You complained as you stared at the ceiling.

"Are you okay?" He laughed as he grabbed one of your shoulders to help you sit up.

"Yeah. I think the only thing broken was the moment" You sighed, feeling rather disappointed.

"Well" He smirked again, pausing for effect, "I guess we'll just have to save it"

His arms wrapped around your waist, and he plucked you off the ground and onto his lap. Your knees were by his hips, your hands came to rest on his shoulders as you straddled his strong thighs. He leaned up to nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately, before capturing you lips in another kiss. The passion surged inside you once again, and you soon had your hands roving up and down his chest. Acting on a whim, you lowered your mouth and began to work at his neck. When you drew back, you admired the large pinkish patch of skin on his neck through heavy lidded eyes.

He was going to have one hell of a hickey tomorrow.

Grabbing your face in his hands, he guided your face back up to his, and then kissed you so hard that you could almost see stars. His hands tangled in your hair, stroking it, and your back was arched, his face cupped in your hands.

That was when the elevator _'dinged,'_ and doors opened.

See, if you hadn't had been so caught up in Bucky, you would have realised that the lurch that sent you both sprawling was the elevator beginning to move once more. ...But you didn't.

And now the doors slid wide open to reveal Tony standing there, wrench in hand, accompanied by Steve and Bruce.

"See" Tony was saying proudly, "All it needed was a good ol' fashioned-" 

He stopped abruptly as soon as he noticed you and Bucky, and the predicament that you were unfortunately still in. 

"Shit" Was all you said.

You and Bucky scrambled to your feet, trying to not look at any one of them, but failing miserably.Steve was staring at you both in shock, but he looked rather... Pleased? Bruce had a small smile of amusement on his face that he appeared to be trying his best to smother. But Tony... Well, Tony started laughing. Hysterically laughing. Laughing so hard that tears began to stream down his face and he dropped the wrench.

"It's not that funny!" Bucky snapped as you nodded in agreement.

You crossed yours arms over your stomach, feeling even more exposed with the four men standing there than you had ever before in your life. Bucky once again must have noticed how uncomfortable you seemed, because he moved infront of you to slightly cover your body as he glanced around for the T-shirt. When he finally located it, he plucked it off the floor and handed it quickly to you. You pulled it on gratefully. Being half-naked infront of your friends was embarrassing enough, and even more mortifying considering how they'd just found you.

There was a long silence as you stared at the floor and refused to say anything to anyone. Beside you, Bucky ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.

"So..." Steve began when the silence became unbearable, "I guess you guys don't want to go swimming anymore"

Tony snorted before anyone else could even formulate a reply; "Of course they don't want to go with _you_. I'm pretty sure they have way-better-and-much-more-fun-and-pleasurable things to do"

And with that, Tony grabbed the flustered super-soldier's arm, nodded at Bruce to follow, and then frog-marched them all down the hall. Just before he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, he caught your eye over his shoulder and mouthed;

 _You're welcome_.

You thought about rolling your eyes, but he'd done you a favour. So you turned back to Bucky and grinned flirtatiously. He shared your look, and then dragged you down the hall and into his room.

Slamming the door shut, he pressed you up against it, and braced himself with one arms slightly above your head.

"So" He purred as his other arm skimmed across the skin of your thigh, "Where were we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I tell you guys I got a bow? Like a proper bow, and it looks kinda like Clint's one (it's a compound archery bow and it's the shit). So I'm learning archery! :D It's great, but a killer on your draw fingers!


	18. High School Hierarchy (Steve Rogers X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't posted a Steve one in so long, but hopefully this'll do.
> 
> This is a Pre-Serum!Steve X 1940s!Reader. The ending is a bit bitter-sweet, but I wanted this one to kind of connect with the actual storyline as something that COULD have happened.
> 
> So now Round Two of the oneshots is over (Rounds consist of one oneshot for each of the following characters; Steve, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Thor, Loki, and Natasha. They can go in a different order in every round, but once I have written a piece for each of the seven of them, the cycle will start anew. I may also include other Marvel characters in the works (Not Spider-Man or anything, just characters associated with the Avengers), such as Sam, Bucky, Sif, Peggy, Coulson, etc, but they will pop up less regularly. I have the order of the oneshots up until Oneshot Number 66 planned, so if you want to know when a lesser character will crop up again, let me know and I'll tell you what oneshot number it is) 
> 
> If there are mistakes they will be fixed tomorrow. Toodles x

"Why is that kid here?" The girl in your right sneered over her plastic cup of beer.

Turning away from your best friends conversation, you followed the girl's gaze across the room. The first think that caught your attention was the tall, dark and handsome Bucky Barnes. The guy had just stepped in the door, his signature smirk on his face. Around him, girls were batting their eyelashes and giggling. Bucky caught your eye and winked. You grinned widely back, but your interaction with each-other was just friendly. You had been lab partners last year, and were purely platonic friends. You wondered why the girl would be disgusted with Bucky showing up; He was one of the most popular guys in school.

That was when Bucky turned around to say something to someone behind him, and you saw who the girl had been talking about: Steve Rogers stood behind Bucky, almost hidden by his best friend's tall frame. You couldn't remember if he was invited or not, but he seemed like a really nice guy, and you had no problem with him being there. Others, however, did. He was looking nervously around as all the other kids began to murmur cruelly amongst themselves about why such a loser was at the party, loud enough for Steve to hear. You watched in pity as Steve shrank back, and Bucky took hold of his arm. The dark haired boy leaned to whisper something encouraging into Steve's ear. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to work as Steve began shaking his head and backing away towards the door.

Feeling terrible, you decided to ignore them all and try make him feel welcome. 

So, you plastered your best kind smile to your face, and strode over to the two of them, depositing your own empty drink on the table, and snatching up two more full cups as you did. Straightening up, you walked purposely over to the two boys by the door.

"______, what do you think you're doing?" One girl asked sceptically, blocking your path.

"Bringing drinks over to Bucky and his friend" You dead-panned, raising a brow coolly.

"Uh, _why?"_  She asked, "Rogers' is a total loser"

"He seems like a nice guy" You snapped as your tempter rose dangerously close to the breaking point, "Unlike _some_ people"

Her mouth opened in an 'O' shape as she realised what you were getting at and look of anger flashed on her face,. You merely rolled your eyes at what a simpering idiot she was and side-stepped back her before she could reply. 

_Some people could be so stuck-up._

"Hey" You grinned widely as you approached the two guys near the door.

"______. What's up?" Bucky smirked in response.

The smirk really meant nothing. It was just how he looked.

"Nothing much, just figured you two would like a few drinks to loosen up" You answered as you handed him the cup in your right hand, "And _this_ is for you" You said with a flourish as you passed Steve the one you held in your left.

"T-thanks" He stuttered nervously.

He stared at you through wide eyes, obviously waiting for you to begin to make fun of him. You just smiled in response, and reached out to squeeze his arm gently. His surprised gaze flickered down to your fingers against his skin, then back up to your eyes once more.

"I don't believe we've ever got the chance to talk properly" You told him gently, "I think we should fix that, don't you?"

A tiny, shy smile graced his lips.

"Sure" He replied, a little more confidently.

A throat cleared, and your attention was drawn back to Bucky. His eyes were zeroed in on something - or someone - in the gaggle of party-goers behind you all.

"Steve, will you be alright here with with ______?" He asked a little distractedly.

"Um, yeah. I think so" Steve tilted his head to examine his friend's face.

"Okay. That's good. Because I see a pretty cute girl over there so I'm just gonna..." 

Bucky was gone within the next second, sliding over to a group of girls, and eyeing one girl in a navy dress in particular. Steve rolled his eyes, and took another huge gulp of his beer. He obviously took a bit too much, because next second he choked on the liquid. His hand jerked as he coughed vehemently, and his beer went flying. Luckily for him, it missed landing on him, but unfortunately for you, it sloshed down your front. A crowd of jocks began to laugh hysterically at Steve's spluttering red face, and you turned to give them your most venomous glare.

"Oh, shut up" You growled, "It's not like any of you baboons haven't choked before"

You grabbed Steve by the elbow and began to steer him away, ignoring the cat-calls of the group of so called 'baboons.' Bucky seemed not to have noticed anything, and was happily chatting up that girl in the navy, who you recognised from math class. Knowing Bucky as you did, you knew that if he'd noticed he'd be already squaring up to them. You were kind of glad he hadn't seen, because you weren't in the mood to try referee a fight. You pulled Steve over to the corner, put your hands on his thin shoulders and turned him to face you. He was flushing deeply, and refusing to look at you.

"I'm so sorry" He started to apologize profusely.

You silenced him with a laugh; "Hey, it's fine! Seriously, it's not the first time someone has spilt beer on me, and I can guarantee that it won't be the last. Plus, this dress is black anyway. It won't show up"

"Still" Steve bit his lip sadly, "I shouldn't even be here. I wasn't even invited. Bucky convinced me to come"

"Look" You hoisted yourself up onto the counter-top, "There's no reason why you shouldn't be here. It's not like this is anyone's actual house. It's an old loft that no-one lives in. Anyone can just walk in. Just because the 'populars' have decided something, it doesn't make it the law"

"You speak like you aren't one of them" Steve laughed quietly.

You raised a brow at him, silently asking what he was talking about.

"You're here with them. You run in their circles" He amended, "But you call them 'the populars.' You distance yourself from them"

"Can you blame me?" You replied, kicking your heels against the counter underneath you, "If being popular means that I have to make people feel bad about themselves, then I definitely don't want to be popular. They just invite me to these things because for some reason they like me. It doesn't matter to me if they do or not anyhow. The way I see it, this stupid high school hierarchy won't matter in a few years"

"I agree" Steve smiled, "Glad to see that someone else thinks the same"

You grinned at him mischievously, and leaned over to grab an unopened bottle of vodka that was sitting in the counter beside you. He sensed what you were going to do, and passed you two plastic cups. Taking them, you unscrewed the cap and poured some into it. Steve watched happily as you handed him one and clinked the cups together. 

"Cheers to that thought" You chuckled as you both downed the alcohol.

"Well, look at you two getting along" Bucky drawled.

The dark haired boy slid back over beside you and leaned one elbow onto the counter beside you. He had apparently finished chatting up that girl, and had either gotten her number or been rejected. Judging by his cat-with-the-cream expression, you figured that it was the former.

"Why wouldn't we?" You winked, "Steve's cool"

Steve's grin was so wide that it almost split his face in two. 

"Yeah, ______ is pretty cool too" Steve replied.

"You can go away now, Buck" You said playfully, pushing him away, "Steve and I are having a good time.. We don't want you ruining it"

"Okay" Bucky laughed, holding his hands up in surrender as you stuck your tongue out at him, "I'll leave you two to it, then. Have fun, punk" 

The last part was aimed at Steve.

"Get out of here, jerk" Steve retorted.

Bucky laughed and strode off again, obviously looking for another girl to fawn over. You twisted back to face the boy infront of you, and wondered why you had never had a conversation with him before this. Behind his back, you could see people watching you both and laughing meanly among themselves, and it didn't faze you in the slightest. It didn't matter what they thought. This guy was nice. He was worth ten of them.

So you smiled at him as you raised your glass to your lips, and he returned the look. Then you started talking. Talking about anything; Life, school, music, books, college. Anything that came to mind. He was easy to talk to, and he was probably the most pleasant and polite guy you'd ever come across.

As you grew fonder of him, the sad feeling inn your stomach grew. But you ignored it, and kept talking to him all through the night.

You may as well get to know him while you could. After all, you were moving away on Saturday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To any of you who read 'The Protection Detail' (my Sherlock Holmes X Reader fic) I haven't given up on it, I'll be updating ASAP. And the same goes for 'Winter's Thaw'


	19. The Internship (Darcy Lewis X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah!!! I uploaded this to Winter's Thaw instead... *Smacks self in forehead* 
> 
> Well, just to say that I'm writing a oneshots tonight instead of updating any of my other fics, as I'm not in the mood to write anything lengthly recently.
> 
> This oneshots is for 'sstilinski' and I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Next oneshots will be a continuation of 'Names' (Loki X Reader) and most of the oneshots in this round will be the requests that people have sent in, and continuations of oneshots that people have requested I do. 
> 
> Hopefully you'll all like 'em okay?

"Miss Lewis will see you now" The pretty dark haired girl infront of you informed you.

Smiling your thanks at her, you closed the glossy magazine you had open on your lap and deposited it carefully on the glass coffee-table. You then straightened up and brushed down your formal outfit before following the beckoning woman down the long hall. She led you through a maze of corridors, and eventually into a small office.

"Um" You said, halting uncertainly at the threshold to the room, "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yup" The woman replied happily.

"But it says 'Mortimer' on the door. I'm for my interview with Darcy Lewis"

"And this is where you'll find her" The woman replied mischievously.

You watched in complete confusion as she plopped down onto the large armchair behind the grand wooden desk and grinned at you. After a few seconds of watching her trying to smother her laughter, you realised what must have been happening.

"You're Miss Lewis" You said a bit hesitantly, just in case that you were wrong.

Her giggle let you know that you weren't.

"Yes, I am. But just call me Darcy"

"It's nice to meet you" You smiled, offering her your hand, "But may I ask why you pretended to be a secretary?"

"For fun" She shrugged.

She leaned forward to shake it without rising to her feet, and then abruptly let go in order to spin herself around on the swiveling office chair. Grinning at her childish amusement, you took the seat infront of the desk and clasped your hands on your lap. From there, you patiently waited for her to continue. Or even to start, as a matter of fact. She seemed to get rather distracted very easily. However, you found it kind of endearing as at least you knew she wouldn't be as boring as your other employers had been.

"So, you're ______, right?" She asked as she popped a piece of pink bubblegum into her mouth.

"Yes" You said politely as you took some gum that she offered you, though you felt that there wasn't such a great need to be formal around this girl at all.

After all, she appeared to be around the same age as yourself.

"And you're looking for an intern position with me?" She continued, "Why?"

"You've worked with Doctor Erik Selvig and Jane Foster" You answered, "You have good experience, and seem excellent at what you do. I'm motivated to achieve the same. If you want to see my résumé, I can-"

She cut you off as you reached into your bag to pull out your CV.

"There's no need. You're hired"

"Just like that?" You were bewildered, yet pleased.

"Um-hum" She nodded, blowing a pink bubble, "You seem cool. You'll definitely have to lose the formal shirt and skirt, but as soon as we get you in a pair of nice jeans and a very low-cut top you'll do quite nicely"

"Very low-cut?"

"Yup. I'm hiring you here on three bases. Number One: You seem motivated, which I gather through the fact that you obviously researched me extensively in order to see whether or not this internship was good enough for you. Thank you for thinking it was, I'm gonna take that as a personal compliment. Number Two: You seem nice, and you don't interrupt me when I speak. That's nice. Number Three: You make pretty good eye-candy, which is always good in an intern. Hence the low-cut top. I'll wear one too, if it would please you to see?"

When you said nothing, she looked up from examining her nail-polish and squinted at you.

"Did I say something wrong? You're not... Homophobic, are you?" A slightly nervous look crept onto her face.

You were quick to correct her.

"No" You laughed, waving a hand at her, "No, I'm most definitely not. I'm not, em, straight, either. Just to let you know. I was just a bit... Shocked at your forwardness"

She gave you a coy, pleased smirk; "Good"

"So do you always base who you hire in terms of looks?" You teased lightly, allowing yourself to relax and slump back onto the chair.

"I just told you that it was only one of the reasons" She laughed, "Definitely not the last guy, Ian. Yeah, that turned into something but it wasn't like I expected it to..."

"And he's not in the picture anymore?"

You were trying not to seem too interested, as this cute, charming girl was beginning to catch more of your attention than was appropriate for a boss to. Even if she was of similar age to you.

"Nope. Things didn't work out, and he quit. Got a proper job. Why are you so curious?" The last part was accompanied by a playful wink.

"I just want to know more about who I'm working with" You said airily.

Before Darcy could retort, there was the sound of the door clicking open behind you. Almost instantly you saw her eyes widen, and then she was bolting out of her seat.

"Who are you?" A man exclaimed in bewilderment as he stepped into the room.

"Run!" Darcy yelled, yanking you off the chair and bolting towards the door.

You didn't even think, just took off after her. The two of you pounded down the corridors, dodging business-people and narrowly avoiding crashing into metal trolleys. Sheets of paper flew into the air as Darcy knocked a loose booklet off a desk when she ran past. The white sheets fluttered into the air around you, raining down as you sprinted down the corridor away from all the displeased, yelling people. Darcy's fingers closed around your wrist once again, pulling you through the maze of a building. Eventually, you spied the familiar glass front doors that lead to the outside world.

"There!" You crowd, pointing with your free hand.

Darcy swerved towards the entrance, dragging you behind her. Your hip smacked into a door-frame as the direction you were being tugged in changed, and you let out a yelp of pain.

"Sorry!" Darcy yelped as the two of you barrelled out of the office building.

You didn't stop running until you were at least a few blocks away.

"What was that!?" You panted as Darcy released your hand, "Why the hell were we running?"

Your new boss's hands were on her knees as she bent over and gasped in and out deeply, trying to regain control of her breathing. Even though you shouldn't have, you thought about how hot she looked right now.

"That..." She trailed off, gulping down air as you sank to the ground on trembling legs, "That was... Not my office"

"What!?" You exclaimed, then wheezed loudly.

"Not... My... Office" She repeated slowly, "Don't... Work... In that... Building"

"Are you serious!?" You half-shrieked, "Then why were you there!?"

"Like... That... Swivel chair"

You shook your head, trying to seem serious. Then you burst out laughing.

"I can't believe you!" You guffawed even harder at the shocked look on her face, "Like, who even does that!?"

"So... You're not mad?" She seemed slightly shocked, and you kind of got the feeling that people in the past hadn't particularly liked when she pulled stunts like this.

"To be honest, if everyday of this internship is going to be as eventful as this interview; I'll be happy to take your offer!" You laughed, opening up the first two buttons of your shirt so your outfit was less formal and job interview-y.

"So, shall we go and get you that low-cut top as promised?" Darcy asked slyly, giving you a promising look.

"That sounds good" You grinned.

Then her hand was on your back, pushing you forward along the street. It was a warm hand, and petite. She never removed it from your back until you arrived in the front door of her 'favourite shop.' And yeah, both of you bought the tops the other picked out for them.

"So, how about some drinks?" Darcy asked, fluttering her eyelashes innocently as she trailed her hand up your arm lightly.

God, you were going to love this job.


	20. Names II (Loki X Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of 'Names:'  
> The reader, who grew up at the palace with Thor and Loki as her father was general of Odin's army, was wed to Thor. He loved her, but she loved Loki. Loki loved her back, and the two continued their relationship (which had being going on since adolescence), and the reader wound up pregnant with Loki's child. Rather than reveal the true parentage of the baby and face exile, Loki and the reader agreed that it was best for the baby if they said nothing, so the child would be raised as the unsuspecting Thor's heir.
> 
> In this chapter, 'Names II': It reveals the events after Kailar's (the baby's) birth, and mainly focuses on his twenty-first birthday, in which he is considered to have gone through a 'Rite of Passage' and become a man in Asgardian society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long, but here's part two of 'Names.' 'CloudySky' and 'Keyana' said that they would like to see it, so here it is (sorry ladies, this probably isn't the happy romance that you had in mind):
> 
> A warning for those of you who do not like angst; Don't read this. Also, for those of you who like happy endings; This isn't for you either. A lot of people found the first part heart-breaking... I guarantee that this one will be even more so. And I know it says Loki X Reader, but there will be quite a bit of Thor X Reader also.
> 
> But to all Loki fans: I promise that there will be no more sad one-shots for a very, very long time. I think I've hurt you all enough.
> 
> To the rest of you: You'll all get a turn for some heartache and angst as well. SO JUST YOU WAIT.
> 
> Just to let you know, that Asgardians don't age slowly all of their lives. They only age slowly upon reaching adulthood when they consume the Apples of Idunn. So basically in their childhood they age as normal Midgardian/Earth children do. I got that fact from this website: http://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/16783/how-long-do-asgardians-live-for when I was doing my research before writing this. If it's wrong, feel free to correct me but the fact won't change that for this fic it has to be thought of as true. You'll need it for the story.
> 
> This story is quite obviously an AU where Loki never found out that he was a Frost Giant or attacked New York. As far as this story (and the first part of 'Names') goes: Thor and Loki grew up with the reader character who had been present at court from an early age, Loki and the reader fell in love, but she had been betrothed to Thor since birth and had to marry him. The rest you can guess from the first part of 'Names' and from this part. 
> 
> I would say "hope you like the story", but I have the feeling most of you won't. Hope you "admire" the writing anyway... Or something...
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNINGS: Graphic violence, death, loss, grief, adultery*

"Modi," You admonished sternly, crossing your arms across your chest.

Your daughter paused, twisting around to face you and staring up at you with beseeching sky blue eyes. Her long blonde hair fell all the way down to her waist, neatly plaited and tied at the end with a red bow. In her hands she held two dolls, both made of the finest material in all of Asgard.

"Yes, momma?" She said sweetly in her high, crystalline voice.

She was feigning innocence, and you had to cloak the amused smile that threatened to curve your lips and encourage her disobedience further. 

"Put down the dolls, and get dressed," You ordered as you picked up the tiny red dress off of the king-sized bed. "We're already late, and your brother will be very upset if we miss his Name Day celebration. You know that this one is the most special of all!"

"Because today is his Rite!" Modi chirped, skipping around the room and giggling.

"Yes," You agreed as you hurried after her. "Today is Kailar's Rite of Passage"

"He's a man!" Modi yelled, throwing her hands up into the air as she dodged around you.

You growled, slightly irritated, and hurried after her. Of course Modi had to choose today of all days to begin to act up. The child was exactly like you had heard Thor had been, when he was younger as well. It figured. She _was_ his daughter after all.

Just then there was a loud banging on the entrance to your daughter's chambers, and a deep voice called out for your permission to come in to the room. Modi froze, her eyes widening in curiosity as she stared towards the source of the sound. You took advantage of her distraction by grabbing her carefully by the arm and tugging her towards your body. You then turned and gave the person permission to enter. Almost immediately the doors were thrown open, and a group marched in. You straightened and allowed your eyes to rove over them all.

Sif, your personal guard came in first. Her hand was on her weapon and she look stiff, angry. Your eyes met hers and you knew that something was wrong. Over the years that you had been Queen, you two had become steadfast friends and you could always tell when there was something bothering her. She appeared to be more angry than anything else. The other two visitors were men, one dressed in a castle messenger's uniform and the other was another palace guard. The messenger stepped forward, bowing low to you before speaking. 

When he did, his words seared through your heart like a blade.

"My lady, I have a message from your husband. Prince Loki has returned. He's arriving at the castle as we speak."

_Loki._

Your hear thumped painfully in your chest, and you swallowed heavily. Trying to appear calm, you twisted back to face Modi's handmaiden. Yelena was standing back against the far wall of the chamber, waiting to be issued an order. You didn't have the servants doing tasks for your children that you could easily do yourself. You wanted the relationship that Frigga had with her children and you decided the best way to do this was to interact with them as much as possible. This time, though, you needed a moment in order to compose yourself. You caught Yelena's watchful eye and gestured helplessly towards your daughter. The servant immediately rushed forward to pry your youngest child from you and usher her away.

"Yelena, please get her dressed and down to the ball," You begged.

The older woman nodded, touching your arm concernedly; "Yes, my Queen"

You watched her go, before closing your eyes briefly.

When you opened them, you felt that you had a decent lid on your emotions. You rose, turned back to face the messenger and calmly smiled at them all.

"And what does my husband want me to do about his brother's arrival?"

"King Thor wishes that you escort Prince Loki into the castle and out to the celebration, ma'am."

You flinched slightly; "Kailar's Rite celebration?"

"Yes, milady."

You chewed your lip nervously, aware of how Sif was looking at you questioningly. Forcing a gracious smile onto your face, you gathered up your skirts and nodded towards the corridor.

"We'll leave my daughter to get dressed. Take me to... Loki." 

The guard and messenger bowed once more, while Sif stared at you with her impassive eyes. You strode out the door, pausing as your troop of guards stepped into formation around you. Ordering half of them to stay behind to guard Modi, you gave the rest the command to take you to the front gates. The walk was long, and you had plenty of time to think as your footsteps thudded through the halls and corridors.

_Loki._

You hadn't seen him in twenty years. He left when Kailar was almost one year old, stealing out in the middle of the night without telling anybody and running off to the far reaches of the world. People had told you had he had built himself a small castle there and hired servants from the local villagers. As far as you had known, he had not taken a wife. You knew that you shouldn't even think about it, whether he had or not what was none of your business. However, you still couldn't bring yourself to visit him. Thor had been to see him a few times, but you never had. You had understood why he left, the pain of watching another man claim his child and live in matrimony with the woman he loved was too much for him to bear, but the fact that him doing so had shattered your heart still remained.

After he had left you had refused to eat or drink for an entire week. All you did was lie in bed. Thor, ever the man to presume the best of everyone, thought that it was just depression that your closest friend had left without bidding you goodbye. He had no idea that you were weeping for the father of the boy that he thought was his son.

_Thor._

Over the months that followed Loki's departure, you had come to appreciate how kind Thor was to you. He looked after you, was always patient and loving. The man personally catered to your every need for no other reason than he adored you. He put you back together after his brother's departure, and as a result your feelings for him had deepened. You grew to love Thor in the way that you should have at the start of your marriage. Maybe you didn't love him as much as you had loved Loki, or maybe you loved him slightly differently to how you loved his brother, but the result was the same:

You loved Thor enough to bear him two children of his own. 

A son called Magni, the middle child of your three children. Magni was tall, muscular and was almost identical to to his sire, except for the fact that he had your eyes. He also had seemed to inherit the best traits that you and Thor possessed. He was brave and determined like his father, with a strong sense of justice instilled in him from an early age. He was also as just and kind as you were (though you also argued that he could have gotten that from Frigga). All in all, he was the perfect candidate to become the next king of Asgard.

But he wouldn't be, because he was not the first son.

You shook your head at that thought as a feeling of deep guilt washed over you once more. Your mind refocused, switching to the subject of your daughter. Modi was no-where near as tall as her father and brothers, but she had gained her father's blond hair and sky blue eyes, but your height. You knew that when she grew up she could quite possibly be the most beautiful girl in all of the Nine Realms. Just as her brothers would be the most desirable men, and not because of their power.

You shook your head, sighing. You thought that the mess that was your life had been sorted out years ago, with Loki gone there was no problem. Now all these old worries were bubbling up inside you, multiplied by ten, and you had no idea how to cope. And you still had yet to actually _see_ Loki.

Not for long though, as you turned the corner and suddenly you could hear the sounds of horses neighing in the courtyard. Smoothing down the skirt of your dress and brushing your hands over your hair to make sure it was perfect, you took a deep breath before pushing your way out through the doors and into the open. 

The bright glare of sunlight made you squint as you made your way down the steps, long skirt held up in your hands so you would not trip and fall. Your heart was in your throat as you made your way towards the large group of men and horses. You knew that you appeared calm and unflustered, but inside you were screaming. Holding your head up high, you plastered a polite smile onto your face and continued to stride forward as Sif and the rest of your guard cleared the way to Loki. His back was facing you, long dark hair falling down it perfectly straight. He did not seem to hear your approach. You clasped your hands in-front of you, and waited patiently for him to turn around.

When he didn't after a few seconds, you felt your mouth thin out into a line. Sif shifted angrily beside you, taking this as a slight against you (as unintended as it was).

"Loki," She snapped coldly, bold enough to speak to him so frigidly without use of his title.

You laid a reassuring hand on her arm, but your friend continued to glare daggers at the prince's back.

It was then that he turned around. His eyes were narrowed, no doubt ready for a verbal sparring match with Sif. You knew immediately he hadn't expected to see you there. His eyes widened, almost boggling out of his head, and his mouth dropped open to form a perfect circle. He looked exactly the same as the last time you had seen him, probably due to the fact that it took Asgardian adults around 80 years to age. His long dark hair was silky and straight, his green eyes as bright as intelligent as ever. He was so handsome, and it sent a shard of pain right through your heart.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the ground as your mind desperately searched for something to say. The silence was deafening, and completely painful.

"Prince Loki," Was your brilliant greeting in the end.

He winced slightly, and you got the feeling that he was unaccustomed hear such formality in your tone.

"Prin- _Queen_ ______," He replied, bowing low.

You returned with a curtsey, and then straightened up once more.

"Queen Frigga will be pleased to see you," You told him. "Your brother, also."

"And how is the Dowager Queen and my brother?" Loki replied quietly.

"Your mother is doing well," You nodded. "Thor also. He is at the feast already, overseeing the tourney with... With my son"

Loki visibly flinched at your choice of words.

"Which son, may I ask?" He parried, "I hear that a few years after my departure you had a second"

"Yes, his name is Magni" You responded coolly. "And Thor is with Kailar"

Loki's eyes burned into you, and you found yourself looking away. Sif touched your shoulder, almost as if she knew that something was wrong as she wanted to protect you from it. You felt strange, hot and cold all over as adrenaline rushed to you.

 _It was still there,_ you cursed yourself silently. _That deep, inexplicable attraction for him was still there. And judging by the hungry look in his eyes, he still felt it too._

You didn't know what to say, how to act. Luckily, someone else saved you.

"Mother?" A voice called.

Loki jerked upright, focusing immediately on something behind you. You knew who he thought it might have been, but you were thankful that he wasn't correct. That would have been too much to deal with already.

A warm hand touched your arm, and you turned to gaze into a replica of your own eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Magni said softly, "You look like you've seen a ghost"

"Not a ghost" You made yourself laugh. "Just your uncle. Magni, this is your father's brother, Loki"

Facing Loki once more, you immediately noticed how his gaze was focused solely on Magni. He wasn't looking at him with any sort of affection, just calculating and examining. You knew he immediately recognised the perfect blend of you and Thor in Magni. By the slight curl of his lip, you also knew that he wasn't pleased about it. As you always had, you were able to read Loki like a book. And it still scared you that you could still do that.

"Uncle!" Magni cried joyously, striding forward to offer Loki his hand.

You weren't surprised to see that they were almost the same height, Loki being marginally taller.

For few seconds, Loki stared at his nephew's hand and a confused expression crossed Magni's friendly face. You bit your lower lip, worried of the repercussions if Loki did not shake Magni's hand. You knew that Magni would not be likely to cause a fuss about the matter, but Sif would not stand for such an insult to her godson, and probably go straight to Thor. Your husband would get angry at the disrespect shown to his son, and then there would be more family drama. You couldn't have that. Frigga was far too drained after Odin's death to even attempt to play peacemaker, and you had never been very good at that particular role.

You were saved as Loki reached up and gripped his nephew's hand, shaking it solidly. He smiled back at Magni, who beamed at him, revealing his white teeth.

"Alright then," Your second son clapped his hands together. "We should get going. Kai will get impatient if we're too late. Allow me to escort you, mother dear?"

He offered you his arm, which you gladly took.

He was such a charming boy, he always had been. Even when he was a baby, seventeen years ago, he had always been the happiest of all of your children. People adored his easy smile and gorgeous mannerisms wherever he went. Glancing over his shoulder, he called back to Loki once more:

"Uncle! Walk with us! We can both discuss our dismal experiences as second sons!"

You had to laugh at that, shaking your head fondly as Magni turned to wink at you. You knew he was joking, he did not mind being second in line for the throne. Magni had no ambition to rule, which was precisely why you thought that he would have made such a good king. Now, not to get anything wrong, Kailar would make a good king also, but he was not as patient as Magni was, and tended to dive into things head first. That amused you in a warped way, as acting without thinking was a trait that had belonged to Thor and not Loki. It was kind of ironic that the son that wasn't his took after him in that way.

"Dismal experience?" Loki interrupted your thoughts, moving smoothly up to Magni's other side. "Is Kailar that bad?"

You knew what he was doing, subtly prying for information about the son he hadn't seen in over twenty years.

"No" Magni chuckled, "Kai and I get on well almost all of the time. It was simply a jest. An attempt to bond with a relative. It's a pleasure to meet you, uncle. I've heard many great things about you, and I dearly hope that we can be friends"

A pleased smile crossed Loki's face and you knew it to be genuine. He appreciated Magni's efforts to bond with him. People had always been wary of Loki, calling him Silvertongue and speaking ill of him behind his back. Magni's honest enthusiasm must have been a nice surprise, considering how he must have thought people would react to his return. You watched from the corner of your eye as Loki reached out to grip his nephew's shoulder affectionately. Magni had that effect on people. No matter how someone was against him originally, if they spent a few minutes in his company, then their attitudes would utterly change. The boy was simply a darling and no-one could resist his charm.

"I hope we can be too" Loki answered. "Maybe you and your siblings could come stay in my manor for a period of time?"

"I would love to!" Magni nodded vehemently, then paused when he caught sight of your pursed lips. "...If that's okay with you, Mother?"

You could almost _sense_ Loki stiffening. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out that you were _not at all happy_. 

"Mother?" Magni repeated in concern.

"I'm not sure, Magni," You said in a strained voice, patting his arm. "Your sister is but a child still. I am not sure I want her away from home"

"Well, what about just Kailar and Magni then?" Loki countered.

"Please, Mother," Magni begged. "I've never been that far away from the castle! I'm of seventeen years, I would enjoy to see some of the realm that our family rules over"

"We'll see," Was your evasive answer.

Both Magni and Loki shared a grimace. They both knew that that most likely meant 'no.' You felt like a cruel, overprotective mother, but you weren't feeling like letting your sons run off to spend a vacation with the man who had abandoned one of them (and you) over twenty years ago. Loki had left you to raise that baby without him. He had left you alone with all of that guilt and regret. It has almost eaten you alive, but you had pulled through and now you resented his return. It wasn't _fair_ that he was able to just appear out of the blue and stir up all these emotions in you once more. It wasn't _fair_ that after so many years he was trying to push his way back into Kailar's life.

"They will be safe under my watch, I promise you, ______," Loki told you quietly.

"It's not an issue of security, Prince Loki" You snapped, "I would send guards to watch over them anyway. Kailar and Magni are my children. I am their mother. _Thor_ is their father," You saw the flare of pain in Loki's eyes, but you shrugged off the feeling of guilt and continued speaking anyway. "We will discuss it together and tell you our decision when we make it. That is _final"_

Ignoring the shock on Magni's face, and the downcast eyes of Loki, you shrugged your arm out of your son's and strode forward to Sif. Falling into step beside her, you let your composure slide and let out a frustrated breath.

"Milady?" She raised an inquisitive brow.

"I told you that you don't have to call me that," You groaned.

"I know," She whispered back. "But I figured in present company it was best to show you as much respect as possible"

"Purely so he could compare it to the fact that you show him so little?" You replied with a grin.

"One cannot blame me," She shrugged. "He is rather irksome."

You chuckled loudly and elbowed her side playfully; "Indeed he is."

 

* * *

 

"My apologies," A smooth voice said behind you.

You turned, right before you were due to step out onto the green and into the view of where the stand and tents had been erected. Loki stood behind you in the shadows. His head was tilted in submission, and his eyes looked at you beseechingly. You swallowed, trying to ignore how sad he seemed, and how perfect he looked when that sliver of light fell across half of his face.

"For pushing you to allow the boys to stay with me," Loki continued. "I understand that I have no right... No right to ask you to let me be apart of his life. Not after I left."

You stared at him for a few seconds, glad that everyone had gone ahead so that no-one could see your eyes well up with tears. Loki gazed at you for a long time, unable to move or say anything. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he took in your sadness with stricken eyes. Your mind reeled about, and you had no idea what to say next.

It came to you then with perfect clarity. The single thing that you were capable of telling Loki.

"You're correct," You spoke softly, wiping under your eyes with the sleeve of your dress. "You don't have any right"

"______-" His voice broke, but you spun to face him, face twisted in pain and the tears beginning to leak down your cheek.

"Don't, Loki," You hissed as you jabbed a finger into his chest. "You left him. _You left me_. I had to raise him _on my own_ , deal with the things we had done _by myself_. Do you even know how hard it was to look into Thor's face everyday, knowing that he wasn't the father of the boy he loved so dearly? It was torture. I've had no-one to talk to, all these years. No-one. All this pain I felt? I had to keep it bottled up inside, and that does bad things to a person. So forgive me for not bothering to put up with your excuses." 

You turned on your heel, striding away and out of the castle onto the fields beyond. He called after you, but you ignored it. You had nothing left to say to him anymore. You would get through today, and then you would never see him again. That would be the end of your love story.

Immediately you saw the stands in a ring around the arena where the tourney was being held. You could make out your family in the most plush area of it, the glint of crowns and golden hair in the afternoon sun. You hurried towards them, feeling slightly more uplifted as Modi's squeals, Magni's laughter and Kailar's yells washed over you.

You reached the bottom of the platform and suddenly you were cast into shadow as Thor stepped infront of the sun that shone into your eyes. You smiled up at him, watching him joyously mirror your expression. He held a struggling Modi underneath one brawny arm, and with his free hand he reached down to you.

"Some help, my love?"

You went to accept, but then two hands landed on your waist and you felt yourself being boosted up into the air.

"I've got her," Loki's voice sounded in your ear, ruffling your hair.

You twisted around to see him standing right behind you, torso brushing against your back as he lifted you up onto the platform. Thor grasped your hand and pulled you the rest of the way. Your husband's arm circled your waist as your feet landed on the wooden platform, and Modi leaned across to tug at your shoulder.

"Momma!" She shrieked, "Granny gave me cake!"

"Oh no!" You fake-gasped, shooting an amused look at Frigga. "You'll be hyperactive! We're doomed!"

Meanwhile, Thor was whole heartedly and exuberantly greeting his brother.

"Loki!" He boomed, stepping forward as Loki climbed up onto the pavilion.

Modi was passed to you, and you took her carefully. She was heavy, and you were not as strong as Thor so you ended up having to put her back down onto the ground. From the corner of your eye you could see Thor embracing his brother. Loki seemed stiff at first, his arms hovering over Thor's back like he wasn't sure whether to return the hug or not. After a second, he seemed to to cave in, and his hands settled on his brother's back. There was a thumping sound as Thor pounded him on the back once before releasing him once more.

"It is good to see you, brother!" Thor exclaimed in that happy way of his.

"You too," Loki replied.

You could tell he was uncomfortable, though he masked it well.

He rested his hand on his black leather belt and continued; "I see your family had grown."

"Indeed," Thor replied. "This is Modi."

He gestured to your youngest, and Loki's eyes focused on her.

"What age?" The man you had loved with all your heart asked casually.

"Five years old," Thor told him proudly.

"And full of life," Another voice interjected as Frigga appeared. The Dowager Queen was staring at Loki with teary eyes, "Just like you both were as boys"

"Mother," Loki said in a voice choked with emotion.

Frigga held out her arms and Loki nearly knocked her over in his haste to embrace her. They held eachother tightly, and you found yourself watching with a lump in your throat at the display of emotion.

"I have missed you," Loki mumbled quietly and Frigga sobbed once. "I'm sorry I didn't return for Father's funeral. I just... I couldn't. I-."

"It's alright," Frigga whispered as she rubbed his back comfortingly. "We all have our own ways of dealing with grief"

You bit your lip and averted your eyes at that. Frigga was wrong. Loki had not returned for Odin's funeral due to heartbreak at his father's passing. No, Loki had not returned as he did not want to see Thor with you and Kailar. Guilt throbbed in you, this time because of Frigga. It was due to your actions that she had lost her son for so many years.

Loki released his mother, and even though you didn't want to, you automatically noticed how his hand raised to brush underneath his eye. He raised his head, searching for something in the pavilion. You also immediately knew what he was looking for.

"Thor? Where is Kailar?" You asked edgily, as your eldest son couldn't be seen anywhere, "I could have sworn that I heard him on my way over..."

"He is still here," Thor chuckled, moving aside to gesture down onto the arena. "He took advantage of the fact that you were not present to stop him, and decided to try his hand at an actual jousting competition."

Alarm shot through you; "Where is he!?"

Loki sidled up beside you, glancing around him. You bit your lip, and moved away from him and closer to Thor. Loki's proximity made your heart burn,

"There," Thor pointed, not noticing what was happening.

You and Loki both craned forward, staring at the helmeted youth sitting proudly upon a huge black stallion. Kailar's face was covered, so you could make out nothing of his features. You were deeply aware of Loki scrutinising him for even just the slightest glimpse of his features.

"He's opposing Faendral," Thor laughed once again and hugged your waist.

"Is that wise?" You stared fearfully at Thor's shield brother as he mounted a chestnut mare, "Faendral isn't well known for going easy on the newcomers"

"He will be gentle with him," Thor promised you. "Well, gentle enough. He would not want to injure Kailar on his big day. But he will not let him win, mind you. If Kailar proves victorious in this it will be solely due to himself."

You nodded, ruefully accepting this.

"And do you think he will?" Loki interjected.

You could see due to his pinched mouth that he disliked asking Thor for information about his own son.

"I do not know," Thor shrugged. "He has had the training, but Faendral had had a lifetime of experience. What say you and I have a go afterwards, Loki? For old times sake?"

Loki looked like he was about to protest, but another voice interrupted you.

"Go on, uncle," Magni grinned as he stepped up beside his father's brother. "I'd like to see someone knock my father on his royal ass, and everyone in the palace has had a go and failed miserably. Maybe you're in with a chance."

Loki laughed, and reached out to ruffle his nephew's hair.

"I can promise you, Magni, that I would also prove insufficient. If anyone were to have a chance with that, I would bet on... Well, I'd bet on your mother."

You flinched slightly and turned wide eyes upon him. You hadn't expected that at all.

"I'm surprised you still remember," You found yourself saying quietly.

He held your gaze from where he stood at Thor's other side, eyes burning into yours.

"How could I forget?" He replied softly.

Thor ruined the moment with a deep chuckle.

"How can anyone forget!?" He cried jovially and faced his son. "When we were young, your mother, Loki, and I were inseparable. One day your grandfather, the late King Odin, decided that Loki and I must learn how to joust so that we could take part in the festivities. Your mother was a bit of a tomboy," Thor caught Magni's startled look, and laughed. "Yes, your mother did not always waltz around in the gowns you see her in these days. When she was younger, it was quite different. Anyhow, she decided that she wanted to have a go too. Odin was hesitant to let her, he did not want the daughter of his greatest friend and general to be injured by one of his sons. However, your other grandfather, your mother's father, only laughed and insisted that she would be fine. Odin allowed her to join, and she knocked me off my horse on the first round. Despite being four years younger than I."

"Well done," Magni grinned at you. "So I suppose I should ask for combat lessons from you, and not from father? Seems like you'd have more to offer"

Both Odinson brothers and Frigga all roared loudly at this, and Thor slapped his golden-haired son on the back.

"He certainly has ______'s wit," Loki commented as he looked approvingly at the boy.

Magni turned and gave you a wink.

"We ladies have to stick together, don't we, mother?" He cried, batting his eyelashes femininely.

That only caused more laughter from those around him, including the servants.

"Go on," You waved your son away while giggling into your hand. "There's some girls over there who have been eyeing you for the past while"

Magni's head immediately snapped around to look. Running his eye over the girls curiously, he turned back to give you all a wide grin. He tipped an imaginary hat to you, and in the next second he was gone. Thor rumbled loudly with amusement, and Loki flashed a brief smile before another trumpet sounded. Your head immediately snapped back to face the arena.

Kailar's horse reared at the sudden noise, and you watched as your son restrained the animal so that it's hooves hit the ground once more. His attendant rushed forward, handing him a lance. Kailar's mailed fist clasped it, and he lifted it up and into position with ease.

"Are you ready, boy!?" Faendral called jovially,

"Are you, old timer?" Kailar responded with a loud laugh.

"Thor, will you do the honours?"

"Indeed," The King of Asgard stepped forward, raising Mjolnir high above his head. "GO!"

The horses bolted forward, their riders holding their lances steady. You bit your lip and watched as Faendral charged towards your son. Kailar lowered his own lance, preparing. 

You would have thought that it would have been in slow motion, or something equal to that, but it was not so. The two riders came together with such force that the you cringed at the impact. Kailar's lance snapped, and you thought that he was going to be unhorsed and come crashing down onto the soil. Much to your (and everyone else's surprise), it was in-fact Faendral who lost. Kailar, noticing that his lance was breaking, quickly jerked it upwards. The lance slammed up into Faendral's chin, knowing his head back and sending him tumbling off his horse.

Faendral fell in a tangle of arms and legs, and you immediately rushed forward to check if he was okay. He certainly was, as he pushed himself up on his elbows the next second, a dazed but amused smile on his face. Kailar punched a fist into the air in triumph, wheeling his horse around to face the stand. Beside you, Thor yelled loudly, and clapped you on the back.

"Excellent, my son!" He roared. "Excellent!"

You turned to peck your husband on the cheek, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Anyone would think that it was _you_ who had won the victory and not him." 

"He is my son," Thor reminded you proudly.

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek; "Indeed he is."

You turned back to watch as Kailar dismounted his steed, passed the reigns to his attendant, and took off towards Faendral. Reaching down he offered his father's friend a hand. Faendral grinned at him without guile, and grasped it. As he was pulled upright, you heard him saw good-naturedly; "You know I let you have that one."

 "Sure you did," Kailar chuckled, knowing the man was only jesting with him.

Together, the two men strode towards the pavilion where you stood. As he approached, Kailar reached up and pulled his helmet over his head. His hair was the exact same colour as yours, cut short like Magni's was, as that was the style in the court nowadays. He laughed up at all all, revealing white teeth. In that moment he looked so like Loki that you didn't know how anyone else couldn't see it. He approached you with all the confidence that a man of his position and looks could possess. Out of the corner of your eye, you turned your gaze to Loki to see how he was reacting. His green eyes were focused solely on the young man that was climbing up the steps towards him.

"Did you see me!?" Kailar demanded, eyes flashing with excitement.

Those eyes... They had started out being replicas of yours, yet somehow changed as he grew. Kailar had inherited his father's eyes.

"Yes, we saw," Magni rolled his eyes. "You were incredibly shit. It was just your luck that Faendral has lost some of his skill in his old age."

You couldn't help yourself, you roared laughing even though you weren't impressed by your son's language. Everyone else joined in, even Kailar and Faendral. Your eldest son caught his brother in a headlock, and began to rub his knuckles into his scalp. Magni yelled in indignation, struggling to free himself, but Kailar had four years on him, and managed to keep hold of him. Eventually Kailar released his brother. He stepped back, grinning from ear to ear. It was then that he noticed someone he did not recognise.

"Hello," He said to Loki, stepping forward to offer him a gloved hand. "I'm Kailar, son of Thor. May I ask for the pleasure of your name?"

"This is Loki," Thor stepped forward to stand beside them. "My brother, and your uncle."

"Uncle Loki!" Kailar exclaimed. "It's pleasure to meet you. I would say 'see you again,' but I was just under one year old when you left, so forgive me if I don't remember your face."

You noticed how Loki winced at Kailar's words, and steeled yourself against the pity you felt for him. You were meant to hate him, not feel bad for him.

"Lovely to see you again," Loki replied. "And happy birthday, I wish you a good and merry Rite of Passage."

"Thank you," Kailar smiled, drawing back to sling an arm around Magni's shoulders. "Now, I'm feeling rather hungry, shall we return to the Great Hall for the feast?"

"If that's what you wish, darling," You smiled tightly, "It's your day, after all."

Kailar nodded, looking pleased. 

"We shall go back for the feast," He decided. "Dear uncle, I would be honoured if you would come sit at my table. I would enjoy getting to know you."

"I would like that, indeed," Loki patted his arm, and you could see that he was trying to smother the ecstatic expression on his face.

You had to turn your face away, for fear that everyone would see your more-than-slightly displeased expression.

Kailar twisted to face the rest of his family.

"Come along, Grandmother," He jovially offered his arm to Frigga, "Uncle, Father, and Mother."

"What about me!?" Modi squealed, indignant at having being ignored so long. "I want to go too!"

"Well of course you're coming!" Kailar exclaimed, scooping the little girl up into his free arm. "I couldn't have a party without my favourite sister, now could I?"

"But I'm your _only_ sister!"

"Well, one could argue that Magni could be a girl? He does spend an extraordinary amount of time in-front of the mirror..."

"I have to look good," Magni pretended to huff. "I'm not inheriting a kingdom, so I need to find another way to attract the ladies."

You shook your head, a small smile crossing your lips at your children's antics.

"Shall we get going?" Thor rumbled in your ear, slipping an arm through yours and nuzzling your earlobe. 

"Yes, let's." 

 

* * * 

 

You sat by Thor, he was holding your hand from his position at the top of the table. Every now and again he would raise to to his lips and plant a gentle kiss across your knuckles. He was so completely chivalrous and kind to you, you could not fathom how you couldn't love him from the start. Well, actually you could.

The reason was sitting directly opposite you, chatting to your son.

You could not hear most of Loki and Kailar's conversation. However, you could see a lot of laughing, a lot of interest that Kailar had in Loki's stories, and how completely Loki's attention was fixed on the young man. The two were bonding, getting on like a house on fire. It bothered you.

"Something wrong, love?" Thor's deep voice rumbled into your ear.

You were just about to answer when the deep, mournful sound of a warning horn echoed through the air.

Everyone froze, unsure of what to do.

The doors to the Great Hall burst open, and two messengers ran into the room. They sprinted up the aisles as fast as they could, moving closer until you could could see the beads of sweat making their way down their brow. The panic on their faces had Thor standing, his chair scraping across the marble floor. You rose with him, worry etched onto your face. 

"What's happening?" Your husband's voice rang across the now quiet Hall.

"Invaders!" One gasped. "Approaching the castle!"

 "How many!?" Thor strode away from the table, red cape flapping behind him.

"I'm not sure," The guard panted. "Three hundred, maybe four. They were trying to sneak in, to take the castle unawares."

Thor's hand shot out, hand opened to the thin air. Within seconds, his hammer came flying into the window to slam into his hand with enough force to snap bones in the body of a lesser man. Your husband brought the hammer down in a swipe, his arm writhing in muscle as a storm began to swirl in the sky above.

"Einherjar!" He roared, "Prepare yourselves for battle. The rest of you, retreat to the castle chambers!"

There was a buzz of panicked energy as the warriors left the Hall to warn the others and prepare for battle. Thor spun to face you and the rest of his family.

"Loki," He caught his brother's eye. "I have need of you, to help defend my family, our family. Will you fight by my side once more?"

Loki's eyes cut to Kailar, and then to you. You were quick to avert your gaze.

"Of course, brother," He said quietly.

"The rest of you, go to the chamber I share with ______," He ordered. "Kailar, Magni, take weapons. They shall not get through, but I will take no chances with your lives."

He turned to leave, but Kailar stopped him; "Father, I want to partake in the battle!"

"No!" The barked words escaped your lips before you could hold them in.

"I'm obliged to," Kailar argued, his eyes flashing. "I'm twenty-one. This is my Rite of Passage. I am a man now, and a man and future king will not cower in the chambers when I can be out making a difference."

"I should go too," Magni added determinedly.

"No," Thor interrupted in a tone both firm and proud. "I appreciate and admire your courage, Magni, but you are not of age and I cannot allow you to fight this battle. Kailar, on the other hand is a man by our laws. Though I do not want to put him at risk, I cannot stop him from this battle if he so wishes."

"He's my son," Your voice trembled. "I won't allow it."

"I don't have time to argue," Thor strode forward to kiss you once on the lips. "I have to lead the troops. It's up to you, my love. Loki, are you coming?"

"In a moment," His brother replied.

Thor nodded impatiently, and with that, he was gone. You glared at Kailar stubbornly.

"You. Are. Not. Going."

Kailar turn to you, a look of sorrow and irritation on his face.

"It is not your decision to make, Mother," He told you softly.

You flinched at the words, cold fear in your heart. You were afraid, deathly afraid. You didn't want any of your family put in danger, least of all your children.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. 

Loki stood in-front of you, his touch light even though his eyes bore into yours. You didn't want to, but you found yourself taking comfort at his presence. He reached up to brush a stray curl out of your eyes.

"It's alright," He promised you. "I will protect him. I swear to you that I will protect him with my life. No harm will come to him. You had no need to fear." 

"I'll be fine," Kailar said, moving forward to gently nudge Loki out of the way.

Your hands rose to grip his shoulders, and he stared into your eyes. He was so tall you had to tilt your head up to look into his face properly. His large hands crept around your back, and then you were pulled into his embrace. Your arms wrapped tighter around his body, holding him to you as your head rested against him. His head dropped down to your shoulder. 

"I'll be back," He whispered, drawing away from you. 

Your hands rose to cup his face, and you gently pulled it down to plant a kiss on both of his cheeks.

"Please, return to me," Your voice almost broke.

"I will," Kailar's cool lips pressed against your forehead. "I love you, Mother."

Your heart beat painfully, tears pricked your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat. Still, you forced the words out.

"I love you too, darling. My son."

Kailar sighed and stepped back. He then embraced his grandmother and younger sister. Finally, he turned to Magni, who was watching him with troubled eyes.

"Fight well, snot-rag," Magni joked, trying not to look directly at his elder brother.

Kailar's laugh sounded forced, but you could see the depth of affection in his eyes when he gazed at his brother. The two of them were more than siblings. They were best friends. 

Kailar's hand rose to grasp Magni's shoulder, and your second son copied the gesture and somehow found the ncourage to meet his brother's gaze. Kailar flashed him a grin, and then jested right back.

"I will, while you cower in our parent's chambers like an old woman. No offence, Grandmother."

"I may be elderly," Frigga spoke up. "But I can still hold my own in a fight."

"I shall most certainly see that when I get home," Kailar chuckled, then yanked his brother into a bone-crushing hug.

"Look after our family," You heard him murmur.

"Look after our kingdom," Magni responded, his voice muffled in Kailar's clothing. "Though, more importantly than that, look after yourself."

The two let go of eachother, and Kailar turned to meet your eyes one last time.

"We've delayed to long," He told you, gesturing to himself and the silent Loki. "We best go to the armoury now."

You nodded briskly, trying to fight back tears. Modi, seeing the faces of those around her, began to cry softly. You were dimly aware of Magni picking her up and comforting her. Frigga's hand closed around your arm, and you gazed into her kindly eyes.

"We should be getting to the chamber," She reminded you.

 

* * *

 

The waiting wasn't the worst part, but it was still awful enough. You paced back and forth, to the extent that Magni had taken you by the arm and demanded that you sit down, as your obvious worry was only making Modi more upset. So you had sat on the bed that you shared with your husband, and cuddled the little girl in your arms while she clung tightly to your dress front. Frigga sat in a chair near the window, holding an open book in her hands. She did not appear to be reading it, just staring blankly at the page. It was disconcerting. Magni was standing near the door, saying nothing to the two guards who stood in the room with you. His eyes were hard-set and calculating as he listened intently to what was going on behind the door.

"How long?" Your voice cracked at the end, before you could even finish the sentence.

"They've been fighting for a few hours, milady," One of the Einherjar supplied. 

You smiled weakly at him, nodding in thanks.

It was then that the bubble of calm that surrounded you all burst with force.

Cries from the two guards positioned outside of the room suddenly sounded, followed by the impact of something being slammed into the doors. Another impact followed, and then another, until the door burst open and the enemy invaders spilled into the room.

They had found their way inside the castle.

The two Einherjar inside the room surged forward, weapons raised. They tried to fend back the enemy, but more and more were spilling into the room and they could not stop them all. 

"Modi! Stay back!" You cried, throwing yourself off the bed as they rushed for you.

There was no fear, just the overwhelming urge to protect your children.

Frigga had proved that being a queen did not mean that one was useless in battle, and with the general of Odin's army as your father, you had learned the skills to keep up that tradition. You knew that the Dowager Queen was already fighting at the opposite side of the room.

Reaching down, you yanked the sword that Thor had given you for one of your birthdays out of it's scabbard, and twisted underneath the first swing of your opponent. That was followed by a parry, a clash of blade against blade, and the man's sword shattering his grip under the onslaught of your Uru-forged weapon. You grinned at him, a savage grin, and then head-butted him. He staggered back, and your sword was then thrust through his chest.

Another came at you almost immediately, and you didn't hesitate. The fight was bringing back all those years of training that you had watched or partaken in, and you killed him with one swipe across his chest. Blood sprayed in an arc, and you heard Modi screaming in the background. You didn't have time to go and comfort her, as net second a third man came at you, and you ducked under his blow. You spun, kicking his feet out from under him. He went down, and you implanted your blade into his torso. 

Straightening up, two arms seized you from behind, and you were roughly pulled back into someone's chest. Your sword clattered to the floor, and you struggled in your assailant's grasp, but he was too strong and it was futile. You felt the cold metal of a knife being pressed to your throat, and you froze.

The moment seemed to stretch through eternity. Your heart beat slowed, and your gasping breaths were long and drawn out. 

Your family and the guards were too preoccupied. You would die, and no-one could stop it.

The sound of glass exploding rent the air, and then the man behind you cried out in pain and fell. You spun, expecting to see that it was Thor who had come to your rescue. It was not so.

Magni stood behind you, his Odin's spear, Gungnir, just returning to his hands. His eyes were flashing, stormy and filled with rage. Pointing his spear at one of the other intruders, he barked out a command in a language you had never heard him speak before. Instantaneously, Gungnir released a bright red bolt of energy. The man who it hit exploded into ash. Magni turned, firing bolt after bolt. He was almost trance like, in pure battle mode, every single target was hit.

"Get behind me!" He barked.

Frigga pulled her dagger out of the man she had just disposed of, and hurried to obey Magni's command. You also retreated behind your son, standing before your daughter as an extra line of protection. 

The enemy had fallen, only one stood in the centre of the room. His head was swinging from side to side as he desperately looked for a way out. The two Einherjar stood on either side of his, bloody gashes covering their bodies. Still, their weapons were raised as they prepared to strike down the enemy. 

"No," Magni's voice was sharp. "He's mine."

The guards immediately stepped back, moving in-front of the door so that there was no escape. 

"Magni!" Your voice was fearful.

Your son ignored you, striding down the steps where the bed you shared with Thor was. His grandfather's spear was held at the ready. Magni stepped down the final stair, glaring at the remaining man with hardened eyes.

"Come on then," He snarled confidently.

The man seemed to hesitate, and then shot forward in an explosion of movement. Magni brought Gungnir up in an arc. The prongs snagged on his opponent's robes, cutting into him and leaving a thin line of blood up his cloak. Your son's face was twisted into a snarl and he spun, parrying a blow from the opponent. Over the crross of their blades, Magni snarled into his face.

"You come into _my castle,_ and try to kill _my family_!?"

The man's face was paled. He was weakening from the seeping blood that spattered onto the ground. Magni was going to win, he knew it. Everyone knew it.

Gungnir caught him in the throat, the blade piercing through the man's throat and emerging the other side. He choked on his own blood, the only thing holding upright was Magni's weapon through his oesophagus. As soon as Magni pulled the weapon clear, he collapsed onto the ground, blood pooling around him.

"______!" Your name was roared from the balcony, along with a sudder of the floor as something of great force slammed down to it.

Thor landed with a crash, and raced into the room. He was bleeding from a cut on his forearm, and his face was dirty. You hurried towards him, so glad to see him.  Within seconds you were pulled into his arms, Magni with you. You returned the embrace, arms tight around his body as you released a shuddering breath.

"I heard that they'd breached the castle," His voice was shaky. "I came as soon as I heard. Thank Odin that you are alright."

"You have your son to thank for that," Frigga announced shakily as Thor let go of you to embrace her. "Not your father's spirit."

Thor twisted to face his son. 

Magni was breathing heavily, staring at the blood drenched spear in his hands in shock. He was surrounded by a circle of fallen enemies, all who had lost to his hand. There was a look of complete shock on his face, and you noted that his hand was shaking.

Now that the battle fever was over, he had realised that he had taken lives for the first time.

You thought he might get sick, you heard that many warriors had gotten sick after they killed a man for the first time. Indeed, his hand rose to his mouth, and he blanched a little. He did not vomit though, his body relaxing slightly after a few seconds.

Thor moved cautiously towards him, his sky blue eyes fastened on the weapon in his son's hands, before swivelling to the glass case in the corner of the room, where Odin's spear had been kept since his death. The glass was shattered, and you noticed that the piece had fallen outwards, not inwards as it would have if Magni had broken the glass and seized the weapon himself. Thor noticed that too, and apparently had the same idea also, as he spoke quietly and wondrously.

"You called the spear to you."

Magni nodded, trembling; "I... I don't know how it happened... I was fighting with my sword, and then I saw Mother in trouble... It just _happened_. Gungnir shattered through the glass, flying towards me, and I just caught it. Without even thinking about it. And I knew how to use it without ever have being taught. How... How is this possible?"

Thor's hand settled on his shoulder.

"You are the grandson of Odin Allfather. Though I've never heard of the spear having the capacity to be inherited, it is only fitting that his spear would go to someone such as yourself, Magni. Someone honourable and just. You're worthy to bear this weapon. It is the highest honour one can posses."

While he said these words, Thor looked troubled. You were pretty sure that you knew what he was thinking. It was well-known that Kailar had been proclaimed Thor's heir. Kailar wanted to be king, Magni did not. No-one had thought about the line of sucession being different, until now. Magni being able to wield Gungnir with all of it's powers, the weapon of the Allfather, was a rather large indicator that perhaps the throne should have been promised to him, and not Kailar. Thor now had a very difficult decision to make, whether to uproot Kailar from his place as his heir, shaming him and naming Magni as heir, or to leave it be, let this sign to unheeded and then reap all of the possible repercussions. You knew Kailar would never forgive him if it happened.

_Kailar._

"Thor!" You cried, rushing forward to grab his arm. "Where's Kailar!?"

"He was still on the battlefield when I left, though we had shattered the invaders and there was not many left" Thor told you. "We were finishing off the stragglers and the danger had passed. To us on the field, at least. Loki told me to go to your aid, the guards wouldn't have reached you in time. He promised to protect Kailar like he was his own son."

Normally, that would have made you wince. Instead you were gripped by a deep, uncontrollable fear for your first-born.

"I need to see him," You begged.

Thor looked hesitant.

"Please," You continued. "If the army ha defeated them, what is the danger of me being out there."

"She is right, my son," Frigga piped up.

She had lifted up Modi and was now comforting the girl in her arms.

Thor seemed to except her point, and snapped his fingers at the two Einherjar; "Close these doors once more. You have done well, and your wounds will be treated shortly. Until then, I need you to guard my children and mother once more."

The guards bowed their helmeted heads in submission; "Of course, my King."

"Come," Thor gripped your arm and began to lead you towards the balcony.

"Wait!" A determined voice said. "I'm coming too."

You glanced back at Magni, who was following you both with Gungnir still gripped in his white-knuckled hands. 

"No," Thor said sharply. "You are to stay here."

Magni looked taken aback at his father's tone, but nodded and retreated.

You knew why Thor was being like this. He did not want the entire army to see that Gungnir had chosen Magni as it's new wielder just yet. It was not fair to have Kailar's right of succession questioned on his already bleak Rite of Passage.

You had no more time to think, as Thor's brawny forearms encircled your waist, and you were pulled into his body. Holding Mjolnir up to the sky, you felt yourself being yanked into the air. It was not the first time that Thor had flown with you, but you still gripped his arm so tightly that your nails cut into his skin. He didn't seem to feel it, only flying with single-minded determination towards the battle field.

You could see it, bodies littering the ground, and riderless horses wheeling about in a terrified frenzy. The Einherjar's helmets glinted in the sun as they rounded up the stragglers of the enemy force. You suddenly noticed a rather large group clustered around one spot on the ground, and tugged at Thor to get his attention.

"What's going on there?" You cried.

Thor didn't answer, just adjusted his course towards where you had indicated. You slammed into the ground a few seconds later, Thor protecting you from what would have been a bone-crushing impact. He released you as you straightened, rubbing the dust out of yuor eyes and coughing as dirt swirled through the air. Thor was already moving towards the group. As he drew closer you saw him freeze. Then he let out a cry of horror and rushed forward, shouldering people out of the way to get to something in the middle of the crowd.

Ice cold fear gripped your heart, and you picked up your skirts and hurried after him. Pushing through the swarm of warriors, you finally caught sight of what had caused the commotion, and you felt a scream budding in your throat.

Thor was crouched on the ground, tears leaking from his eyes as he cradled Kailar's body in his arms. The young man's armour was soaked in red, that had pooled around his still form and stained the earth. His face was white, his eyes were closed. His mouth was twisted downwards in an expression of pain. Loki was on Kailar's other side, his face deathly pale and his eyes wide. His arms and torso were coated in fresh blood, from where he had obviously tried to keep Kailar's blood from spurting out of him. He seemed to be gasping for air, choking, and making some sort of animalistic keening. A healer stood off to the side, wringing his hands nervously and his eyes trained on the ground. When you arrived, he looked up at you mournfully.

"I'm so sorry, my Queen," He whispered. "I did all that I could."

There was a faint second of stillness as what he was saying sunk into your shocked mind. Then the gears in your brain came into full force, and reality crashed around you. You felt your heart tearing itself apart inside your chest, twisting into a million tatter as you dropped to your knees beside your sobbing husband and grasped your son's face between bloody hands. You thought you'd experienced heart-break before, when you woke up one morn to find out that Loki had taken off during the night. No, this was much, much worse. This was your entire being, your soul, being destroyed before your eyes. An inhuman ripped itself from your lips, breaking through the air and tainting it with the power of your grief. Thor pulled you into his chest, crying onto your shoulder and you could feel his tears wetting your gown.

The man who hadn't cried at his father's funeral was now a wreck in your arms.

Your own tears were cascading down your cheeks, falling onto the ground to mix with your son's blood. You were dimly aware of Sif's hand resting on your shoulder, her words of sorrow and comfort being whispered into your ear. You couldn't answer her. There was a throbbing in your ears. a headache dulling everything around you until you could see nothing but the broken body of your first-born son, and the huge wound in the centre of his chest.

_"Please, return to me."_

_"I will. I love you, Mother."_

_"I love you too, darling. My son."_

The echo of words spoken mere hours ago echoed in your mind

_"I will protect him. I swear to you that I will protect him with my life. No harm will come to him. You had no need to fear."_

You stiffened, red-eyed gaze raising to Loki. He looked heart-broken, defeated, vulnerable. It made you furious.

"You promised," Your voice came out weak and scratchy at first, then rose into a scream. "You promised me that you would protect him!"

Loki's mouth opened, and closed. No words came out. Beside you, Thor began to try and stop you from doing what you did next. He couldn't.

Then you were screaming profanities at Loki, trying to lunge for him. Your hand cracked against his face with such force that his head was knocked to the side. You went to rake your nails down to his face, but two hands gripped you and Sif pulled you back, her face set in grim determination. You were kicking and screaming in her grip, trying to lunge forward to attack Loki once more. Your shattered heart was pounding dully in your chest, and all you could feel was the anguish rushing to you.

The child you had birthed, watched grown up, loved with all your might, was dead.

"What's going on here!? Mother, are you alright!?" Another voice shouted.

You ceased struggling for a split second, and then turned to break free of Sif's grip and surge forward. You didn't want him to see, you didn't want him to see Kailar like this. You were too late.

Magni stopped dead, his mouth falling open in shock as he took in the sight before him. His Adam's apple bobbed once, then Gungnir clattered to the ground and he rushed forward to drop down into the place where you had been sitting.

"No," You heard his strangled whisper, the quick breaths that signified a panic attack.

You fell down beside him, crouching over him and wrapping your arms around him as his tears leaked down onto Kailar's body. Magni held his elder brother's hand in a vice-like grip, his face twisted in pain. You smoothed back his hair, crying hysterically as you tried to comfort him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he raised his head and gazed bleakly around.

"How?" He choked.

It was Loki who spoke up, hiccuping as he did; "The battle had been won... We were going around, counting the numbers of the dead and taking their weapons. Kailar... One man, he... He was only pretending... I didn't know..." His voice broke. "I didn't know..."

"It is not your fault," Thor told him raggedly.

 _'Yes, it is,'_ you thought savagely, but you did not say anything for fear of upsetting Magni even more.

Your remaining son had sunk down onto the ground, not seeming to care about the blood that now covered his clothes. He was curled up against Kailar's form, his head resting on his elder brother's shoulder as he cried silently, his entire body shuddering with the force of his sobs.

 

* * *

"Love, why don't you come back to my mother's chamber?" Thor's rough voice was quiet in your ear. "The children need you. Modi doesn't know what's happening, and Magni... He's not taking it too well at all."

"Is anyone?" Your voice was humourless as you stood, staring out from the balcony of Kailar's chambers.

Thor sighed behind you, his arms tightening around your waist. Your tears had long since dried on your cheeks, and you just felt empty. Achingly empty, the place where your heart should have been felt hollow. That was what sorrow does, it rips the life out of you. You couldn't even cry anymore. At least, you couldn't cry right now.

Emotions came and went, ebbing out like the tide and leaving you numb and silent. Then they would come crashing back with the force of a breaking dam, and earth-shattering impact that knocked you to your knees and made you howl your laments to the heavens. It was exhausting, yet you couldn't sleep. You were afraid of what you'd see behind closed lids.

It was hard to believe that mere hours ago you had been watching him knock Faendral from the saddle.

"______," Thor spoke again. "It will do you know good to stay here. Please, come sit with the rest of your family."

"I... I can't," Your voice was hoarse. "Just... Leave me here. I want to be alone."

"I can stay with you, if you so wish?"

"No... Thor... I just want to be alone. Go to the children. Tell them I love them very much," You choked on the last word, feeling a heavy lump in your throat.

"Love..."

"Please," You begged, disentangling yourself from his arms. "I just... I need to be by myself, Thor... I just, I-"

"It's okay, it's okay," He comforted, moving forward to embrace you.

You looked up into his face, seeing his watery blue eyes and the haggard appearance of his usually jovial features. He looked like he had aged thirty years in one single night. Your heart broke for him.

"Go to Magni..." You whispered, remembering the haunted expression of your remaining son's face. "He needs you right now. He is going to have to deal with all the attention these next few days. You need to talk to him, to prepare him."

"But what kind of man would leave the woman he loved in her time of need?" Thor asked in a hushed tone.

Your eyes closed in pain as a jagged memory of the moment you were told that Loki had left pierced your brain.

"You are a good man," You stepped forward to place your hand against the side of his face.

His hand came up to cover yours as he leaned into your palm, a few more tears leaking from his eyes. 

You would have told him then, that Kailar was not his son, if it would have made him feel better. But it would have only made him feel so much worse, so you kept your mouth shut and said the only true thing that came to mind.

"He loved you very much, you know. he was proud to be called your son."

Thor's shoulders sagged as he broke down completely. Still feeling empty, you pulled him into another hug and allowed him to weep on your shoulder. Eventually he stepped back, wiping his eyes with his hand.

"I will go, then," He said quietly. "If you wish to be alone, I will not interfere. Just come and find me as soon as you need me."

"I will," You smiled, but there was no emotion in it.

Thor turned on his heel, walking from the balcony back into Kailar's chamber. A few minutes later you heard the door open, and then shut once more. You remained on the balcony for a while, staring up at the stars in the might sky and not thinking of anything. You decided being drained of all emotion was not so bad, it was a lot better than the near unbearable pain and anguish you had been experiencing all day. Eventually, you let out a slow breath and tslunk into Kailar's room. Signs of him were everywhere.

The paintings on the wall. Scenes of warriors and battle, like the one that had taken his life.

The horse figurines that Thor had bought him for his fifth birthday, which he had kept for all these years.

A table that he would let no-one else touch, cluttered with letters and books on magic.

Most importantly, however, the room smelled of him, of young healthy male and his ninroot soap. You inhaled deeply, wondering blankly if there would be some way to perserve the scent so you could remember it always. You didn't want to forget the little things about him.

You walked over to his large, four poster bed, trailing your fingers over the mattress, lost in in a trance. You didn't hear the door open once more, but you heard it close. Your back was facing the door when it happened, so you just presumed who it was that had entered.

"Is everything alright, Thor?"

A few seconds of silence followed, then a voice quietly said; "It's not Thor."

You turned your head slightly, looking over your shoulder. 

Loki stood by the doors, hands wringing in agitation in-front of him. He looked awful, red-rimmed eyes, almost grey in complexion. There was a faint mark on his cheek from where your hand had connected with it earlier. You didn't even bother to look at it. He had changed out of his bloody armour, but these new clothes did not sit right on him and you got the feeling that they had been both hastily and carelessly pulled on.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice was like ice.

The throbbing in your chest had increased, Loki's presence straining the dam that held back the flood of emotion. He needed to leave, or else you'd succumb to all that pain once more, and it would swallow you whole.

"I heard you were here," Loki's hands raked through his dark hair.

Those eyes stared at you, and you tried not to think of Kailar as you gazed into them.

"I came to find you," He continued.

"Well, you've found me. Now you can go."

"______, I'm sorry," His voice broke as he took a step towards you. "I'm so sorry."

Your hands shot up, motioning for him not to come any closer.

"Don't, Loki," You hissed venomously. "I don't want to hear _any_ of it!"

"I didn't know," He pleaded desperately, ignoring you and moving one step closer. "I didn't know. There was nothing I could do to stop it. It happened so fast-"

"Shut up!" You snarled, jamming your hands against your ears to block out his words. "Please, just shut up!"

"Kailar, he-"

 _"Don't!"_ You roared, and Loki stopped dead. "Don't you _dare_ say his name! Not you!"

"He was my son too," Loki argued.

"He was not," You cried. "You may have sired him, but _Thor_ was his father. It is _our loss_ and not yours. You left when he was less than a year old. By abandoning him, you have given up any rights to call yourself his father!"

Loki face twisted in sudden rage.

"Do you think it was easy!?" He yelled, rushing forward to grip your wrists. "Did you think it was _easy_ to leave you both behind!? I had no choice! You don't know what it was like, ______, to see you both! Not to be able to hold you, kiss you, not to be able to call the child I gave you as my son! Thor has always had _everything!_ The _kingdom,_ our father's _favour_ , and then he was given _you!_ I thought I could bare it, knowing that you loved _me_ was enough, but then _he_ happened! He would never know he was mine! I'd never be able to call him 'son,' or you 'wife!' You were able to at least have him, I couldn't have _either_ of you! The only two things I wanted in the world, ripped away and dangled in-front of me as the pride of someone else!"

When it ended he was shaking you. Not hard, but none too gentle either. Tears were cascading down your cheeks, your heart aching with more pain than any one being should be able to bare.

"I was so alone," You sobbed, trying to make him understand. "I was so guilty! He loved me, and I betrayed him! You left... I couldn't tell anyone... It tore me up inside, to see the way he looked at Kailar with such love. He's a good man, it wasn't fair to him, we weren't fair to him! I needed you, needed to talk to someone... And you _left!_ I loved you, and then you _left!"_

"I still love you," He whispered. "By Odin, I wish I didn't. I thought I'd gotten over you, that I'd be able to cope with seeing you. As soon as I caught sight of you... I knew. I love you, ______, I always have, and I always will."

Call it desperation to feel something other than crushing anguish. Call it a way to cope with this grief. Heck, you could even call it love, cooped up inside you after all these years.

Whatever it was, it was the reason that you did what you did next.

Your hands grasped Loki's shirt, yanking him towards you. You pressed your lips against his hungrily, kissing him hard. He returned it almost instantly, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you against him while his other rose to cup your face. Your tears mixed together as your cheeks brushed, rolling down and dropping onto the floor. Your hands tightened on his shirt, you used them to rotate him and walk him backwards. Pushing him down onto the bed, you straddled him, hands frantically opening his buttons. He did the same, and soon it became a fight to see who could undress the other first. When both pairs of clothes were gone, discarded in organised heaps across the floor, you pulled him on top of you and finally had him once more.

At the end, you were both slicked in sweat, gasping for air in synchronisation. He leaned down to kiss you again on the lips, a lot gentler that he had before. You kissed him back, feeling exhausted but numbed to emotion once more. Rolling over on your side, you tugged the duvet up over your form. Loki's arm draped around you, pulling you against his body. You sighed, suddenly feeling very drained.Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

You woke up in the morning as sun streamed through the uncovered windows, bathing the day in golden light. 

At first you had forgotten the events of the previous day, and rolled over, expecting to see Thor slumbering in the bed beside you. Instead, it was empty. The sheets had been pulled back, as if someone had clambered out. Clutching the duvet to your chest, you struggled upright. It took you a few seconds to recognize that you were in Kailar's chambers.

_Why am I here?_

At that question, all the memories of the previous day came back, and you felt your heart beginning to ache once more.

_Kailar was gone._

_He was never coming back._

_You'd never be able to hold him, to hear him laugh again._

_He'd never be sparring with Magni in the courtyard, the sound of their joy bringing a smile to your face._

_He'd never be playing dolls with Modi, showing a patience with her that not many boys his age would have for their younger sister._

It was devastating to even think about, like the world had crumbled around you.

Crying silently to yourself, you stood angrily and wiped at your face. Your clothes were neatly draped over Kailar's desk chair in the corner. You wondered who might have put them there. Then you then recalled the empty bed beside you.

Loki was gone.

You weren't really surprised.

You had expected it, to be honest. You had known he would leave, unable to bear the funeral of the son he had barely known, and unable to be with you. There was nothing left here, for him. You thought he may have asked you to leave with him, but he hadn't and you were glad. You would have had to refuse, there was noway that you could abandon Magni, or Modi, or Thor. They needed you, all three of them needed you. They were your family, and Loki hadn't been in your family for some time.

It still hurt, though. For you did love him still. It was strange, you loved him differently to how you loved Thor, but also in a similar way. Maybe in another life, you had been able to be with Loki, but in this one it could not be so. Doomed love, you reflected, was not a nice thing.

You had just finished dressing yourself and making the bed when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," You called, wondering if it was Thor.

Sif stepped into the room, her dark eyes wide with concern.

"Are you alright, milady?" She asked softly, approaching you.

You tried to smile, but you could feel yourself dissolving into tears once again.

"I don't think I'll ever be alright again," You croaked, and then began to weep.

She hurried forward to pull you into a hug, stroking your hair and shushing you. You held onto her strong arm as you cried out all the pain, the grief, the confusion. When you were done, she produced a handkerchief from her pocket and passed it to you. You took it gratefully, mopping up your tears.

"Milady..." She began again when you were composed. "I brought some tea of the grey ash."

You froze, staring at her.

Tea of the grey ash prevented pregnancy. She knew.

"Its alright," She went on hurriedly. "I am not going to tell anyone. You should know I don't judge you,  never have-"

"You've known!?" You gaped at her. "All these years!?"

She nodded, looking extremely grim; "Yes, milady. The first year of K... Of the pince's life, I noticed how Loki looked at him. How he looked at you. I'm more observant than people know. As the boy grew older... His eyes... I knew for certain."

"And you didn't tell anyone because..?" Your voice trailed off into a whisper.

She shrugged; "You had loved him, and you were made marry his brother. They were not fair to you. You're my lady, my closest friend. He made you happy. How could I destroy your life?"

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"I could see that you were not comfortable with what you had done. I did not want to make you more uncomfortable and paranoid by telling you I had known."

"And did anyone else..?"

"No," She was vehement. "I listened for whispers. There were none."

You breathed out, trying to come to terms with what you had learned.

"My Queen," She said again, calling your attention back to her. "I do think you should drink..."

"I don't have to," You told her, feeling a red flush creep across your face. "Before we started, I said an incantation... There is no chance of a pregnancy. I couldn't bear it. There is no chance... Of another Kailar."

She nodded sorrowfully, and then the doors swung open once more as Thor strode into the room. Within seconds, you were swept up into his arms, and crushed against his chest.

"Loki has left," He told you in a voice full of pain. "He said he couldn't bear the funeral... I didn't stop him."

You felt numb, no guilt at what had occurred the previous night. Maybe it would come in time, but you didn't think so. It had been an act of grief and love, a way to escape reality. There would be no more, no others. Maybe you would think of Loki, of the life you could have had together, but you would not pine for him. Thor deserved a wife who would love him and care for him. You would do your best from now on, to be the type of woman who was worthy of a place at his side.

"He told me the two of you sorted things out," Thor continued. "How you talked through the night. He said you forgave him, but I said there was nothing to forgive."

You winced a little, then thought of something else.

"The children?"

"With my mother," He told you. "Modi is alright, she has stopped crying now. I don't think she really understands..." He trailed off to bite back a sob.

"And Magni?"

"He is not speaking to anyone, but he is a strong boy. He will get through this," Thor promised. "We all will."

You smiled through glistening eyes, stretching up to kiss your husband gently on the cheek. Your hand fell to entwine your fingers with his.

With a heavy heart, you sighed and spoke again; "We will. Together."

_We'll have to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot apologise enough for this chapter. I'm so so sorry, guys x(
> 
> Yes, I killed off Kailar. Let me explain my reasons for doing so:  
> 1). I wanted to see how well I could write a tragic love story. This was my experiment, so I'm sorry for making you Loki fans my collateral damage.  
> 2). No matter what way I envisioned it, I could not see Kailar inheriting the throne of Asgard. It just didn't feel right to me, and so I knew the story would never end that way. Thor is a good man, he's a better man than Loki (I know you guys fancy him, but he tried to commit mass genocide in two worlds. He's not exactly a personification of goodness, though I also do love him). It didn't seem fair for Thor to pass on his position to a son that he didn't know wasn't his. I just couldn't do it.  
> 3). Magni. Seeing as my OC's aren't real in MCU, their personalities take some planning out. They just really end up being whatever way I see them when they suddenly walk into my brain. Kailar is a good, moral young man, but I completely fell in-love with my vision of Magni, to the extent where I even began to look at actors to cast him as in my mind.  
> 4). I think we need a little angst every now and again. These oneshots can't be all gooey and romantic. I need something emotional to keep me entertained.
> 
> For those of you who may be interested, copy and paste the link to find out what I imagine Magni to look like: http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/2d/15/3a/2d153a942980dd13081758f6fed81c08.jpg  
> His name is Max Lloyd-Jones, incase you're wondering, and I think he looks enough like Chris Hemsworth to pass as Thor's son.
> 
> As for my next updates, they will be 'Winter's Thaw' and 'The Protection Detail.' They will be up as soon as possible, I'm back at school and not home until eight each day so I don't have time for writing, so please don't leave any 'OMG UPDATE RIGHT NOW!!!' comments. Please respect that I can't, and that the updates will come as soon as they can.


	21. Morning Sickness (Thor Odinson X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked before (years ago at this point) to write a fic of Thor and a pregnant Asgardian reader. It's been a long while coming but it's here. I'm trying to get back to writing, but with uni, a part-time job and my life in the world around me I don't know how often I'll be updating things. I'm sorry for the wait, I'm trying to get my mojo back and do my smaller stories first to ease myself back into writing. I seem to be a bit rusty.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy and that you are keeping well. I won't be taking any requests as I won't have time, but I will make a list of the ones already placed and try get to them at some point. Thank you for coming back to read this, guys, I hope you all enjoy and thank you for your support over the last few years :) xx

It was a warm night in Asgard. However it was not the warmth that had you sweating, you were used to your world's temperature at this stage. No, you were sweating because you were scared, worried and excited all mixed into one. You wanted to be happy but you wouldn't let yourself, not until you knew how he would react and what he would say. You hoped he would be ecstatic. He wanted this, you knew he did. You just were not sure if he wanted it _right now_. With his father's death and his ascension to the throne, you were not sure that Thor would be able for the added pressure of becoming a father.

You were sitting inside upon the bed that you two shared, hands twisting nervously in worry. You couldn't help but keep glancing out the window. He had said he would be back soon but now it was getting late and there was still no sign of him. There had been word of a disturbance in the east, and your husband had gone to check it out himself. You only hoped it was not more than it seemed to be. If anything happened to him... No, you couldn't afford to think like that.

A wave of nausea hit you and your hand flew to your stomach as you groaned. The sickness had been the first sign. It had hit you hard, very hard, leaving you bedridden for two weeks. Thor liked to make his entrance known. Apparently his unborn child did too.

That thought made you smile. Thor's child. You and Thor's child. It was a strange thought, a little mix of you both running around the world. Your baby. Future heir to the throne. Girl or boy, this child would be first in the line of succession. Thor has recently passed a law giving female children the same rights as males, this meant if you had a daughter now, and a boy after her, it would still be your daughter, the firstborn, who would inherit the throne.

You loved Thor for that. All kings before him had valued sons over daughters. Thor was not like any of those who came before. He was good and just and you loved him.

You thought back upon the events of the day. Frigga had been with you in the corridor when you nearly collapsed from sickness. Immediately she had summoned the court physician but you had refused, begging for the healer you had since you were a child to be summoned instead. She had come to you, her face twisted in worry until she examined your stomach. Her face changed, lighting up with wonder and joy. She confirmed quietly to you and you asked her to say nothing until you told the king.

Frigga had asked if you found out what was wrong, and though you felt bad for lying to her, Thor had the right to be the first you told. So you told the Dowager Queen that tests were still being run, but your healer had told you she thought it was nothing to be concerned about. Your mother in law sighed with relief when she heard and drew you into a tight hug.

A suddenly hum hit your ears, and you straightened immediately. It grew louder and you got up and rushed out onto the balcony. Resting your hands upon the stone ledge before you, you watched the small speck that was your husband grow larger in size as he flew closer. He plummeted to the ground, cracking the stone underneath slightly as he slammed into it. He rose from one keel, unharmed. You rolled your eyes at the dramatic entrance but felt yourself smiling. All the years of courtship and then the two of marriage and he still went out of his way to try impress you. He knew he had you, but it was endearing to see that he never quite took your love for granted. 

Your eyes ran over him quickly, making sure he was okay. There was a light sheen of sweat over him, but not even the trace of a scratch. He was completely unharmed.

_Thank Odin._

"My Queen," he murmured, striding towards you. "I am sorry I took so long. It was not a small disturbance after all. I hope you were not too worried?"

You had to laugh at that. You knew he could handle himself so you were not particularly worried about him in battle. You were more worried about his reaction to the growing bump in your stomach. "I was, is it dealt with?"

"Of course it, the depths of Hell ring with their dying screams," he looked at you proudly, waiting for congratulations.

"Good... Good..," you couldn't focus on anything else.

"What is it?" he looked confused at the strange expression on your face. "My love, you're worrying me. Is something the matter?"

"I... I am not sure," you trailed off.

Thor's frown deepened and his blue eyes turned apprehensive. "Has something happened?"

"Yes," you swallowed. "... Do... Do you want to sit down. I am starting to feel a bit dizzy."

The nausea had decided that this was an appropriate time to make a comeback. Thor's look of worry deepened and his mouth set into a deep line. You winced, hand flying to your stomach where you had just felt a sharp fine. Thor shot forward and took your arm, supporting you back into the room. The cramps started up again, and you felt a few tears of pain run down your face. Thor, noticing your steps slowing, swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bed himself.

"Are you unwell? What's the matter?" Thor implored and you saw something on his face that you had never really seen before. Fear reflected in the depths of his sky blue eyes. He lowered you gently onto the bed and then crouched down beside you, holding the hand that was over your stomach in a vice-like grip. "You need to see a physician. There is something wrong. I cannot-." He broke off and twisted to roar for the guards.

You lurched forward and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Thor, it's okay. Nothing is wrong," you gasped, trying to be soothing.

"You are in so much pain!" he looked anguished. "I cannot lose you too!" He turned to shout again but your words stopped him.

"You are not losing me! ... You are gaining another."

He froze, his mind piecing together what your cryptic words meant. You saw him jump slightly as he out the pieces together, reacting as if something had shocked him. His eyes bore into yours as he held your hand even tighter. "You are..."

"Pregnant," you finished for him.

There was a moment of silence as he processed some more, and then his face changed. He threw himself at you with a roar, hugging you tightly and pushing you back down onto the bed. You almost told him to be careful but your surprise at his sudden reaction blocked out the pain of the nausea temporarily. You gasped as he squeezed you, and then pulled back. His hands flew to your stomach, and this time they were gentle as he searched over. The expression on his face was on of pure and complete joy. He found the small bump and gasped with delight, bringing his face closer to inspect it.

You watched him, happy tears falling from your cheeks. "You're... You're excited?" you asked. 

He nodded wordlessly, eyes shimmering. Then something occurred to him and a frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. "Did you think I would not be?"

You felt ashamed, and looked away with your cheeks burning. "I just thought with the All-Father dying and you becoming the new king that this would be more pressure you could not take."

He was silent he reached out to take hold of your chin and turn you back to meet his eyes. You had never seen him so serious as he was as he held your gaze. "This is the best thing that could have happened to me." He told you clearly, his words filled with conviction. "A child. Our child. It brings me more joy than anyone could know. This, and you, give me something to do my best in live for. I will love you both forever." 

You started crying again and he wiped the tears away from your face and drew in to kiss both your cheeks and then your forehead. He lowered his head, and kissed your stomach. You smiled through blurry eyes and stroked his hair lovingly, watching him gape at your stomach. That was how Frigga found you when she came to see if her son had made it home safely. The two of you enraptured in the small sign of your growing family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short! I hope you enjoyed!


	22. Hail (Steve Rogers X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand leggo. An essay and an MCQ exam this week. Another essay due on Monday and on Wednesday. Final year life is greeeeeat.
> 
> I can't complain too much. My life is pretty good. 
> 
> I am also thinking about changing my username on here.

When Steve got back, the apartment was silent and cold. That had him immediately feel like something was off. He knew you were home from work, and on such occasions when you were back at the apartment you shared before him usually he returned to the smell of your cooking, the radio blaring, and your voice warbling along. And it was cold. So cold he could see his breath. Instead of being filled with light, the room looked dark and grey.

“_______?” he called out, but got no response.

He thought he could hear some rustling from the living room at the end of the hallway.

He reached over his shoulder and pulled his shield off his back, before dropping into a semi-crouch. He started forwards when your voice reached him.

“I’m in here, Steve.” It sounded odd, a note too high and almost breathless.

Steve did not drop his guard. He approached the living room cautiously, eyes shifting around. The door was just about open. From the crack he could see that the small lamp must have been on. There was no more noise.

Something was wrong.

He debated going outside to call Tony and the others, but if you were in trouble he couldn’t just walk out of there. Back-up might be the smart thing to do, but Steve was thinking with his heart, not his head. He kicked the door open and spun, raising the shield defensively. When nothing happened, he lowered it cautiously and his quick blue eyes took in the scene in-front of him.

You were sitting on the sofa, face pale and drawn. Your arms had been taped in-front of you and he could see a slight tremor run through your body. There were bruises on your neck, and you had a black eye. That concerned him, but the guns currently being held to your head concerned him even more at that particular moment.

Two men stood behind the sofa, one on either side of you. They were dressed in all black, the only splash of colour on them was the red H.Y.D.R.A. over their left breast. One was older, bald and frowning. The younger looked at him through narrowed eyes that seemed somewhat familiar to Steve.

He went to step forward, but the younger man moved swiftly, cracking his gun across your face. You cried out in pain, hunching forward and Steve saw a single tear roll down your cheek. He stopped and raised his hands.

“One move and she’s dead, Captain,” the older one warned, flicking off the safety on his gun.

You swallowed and looked at Steve imploringly. He could see more unshed tears waiting to fall.

“Leave her alone,” Steve managed to say. Never in his entire life had he felt this level of panic before. “Please…”

“Steve… Run…” you croaked.

The younger man raised his gun again and you flinched away, face turning to hide in the cushions. Your entire body was shaking now. Steve could barely stand to see it. You, hiding away like a wounded and frightened animal. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Drop the shield,” the older man spoke again. “Don’t try anything funny. One of us will get a bullet in her before you can stop both of us.”

Maybe he would have tried it. If it was someone else he would have. However, it was you. He would not do anything to risk your life. So he lowered the shield to the ground.

“Kick it away.”

He did, sending it skidding into the corner of the room.

“Get onto your knees, hands on your head.”

Steve obeyed once more, sinking to his knees. The wood floor were hard and uncomfortable underneath them. Once Steve was in position the older man began to move. He edged around the sofa, moving his gun to train it on Steve. The younger man kept his gun at you. You looked at Steve from under your hair, and he felt his heart lurch. There was an unreadable expression in your eyes.

He kept his gaze locked with yours as the man approached him. He circled behind him and Steve’s arms were grabbed roughly, his hands forced into cuffs. Cuffs like these… They were ones he could easily break. He could snap them as easy as snapping a twig. They knew this… And yet they still used them. Because they knew Steve would not run anywhere now.

The barrel of the gun was pressed into the back of his head while a rough hand wrapped around his elbow. Steve rose as it guided him upwards until he was standing once more. He could hear quite sobs from your direction on the sofa and he felt his teeth grit.

“You have me, let her go,” he said roughly, turning to try and look at the man behind him. The man jerked him again, hard, forcing him to turn back to face you. Your face was hidden once more and Steve couldn’t see it clearly. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he called to you. His voice was soft. “It’s gonna  be alright.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” It was the first time that the younger man had piped up. “You, up.” He snapped his fingers at you. When you didn’t move straight away he yanked you up roughly by your shirt collar, causing another strangled yelp of pain to escape you.

Steve started before he could stop himself, taking a step forward. The younger man pulled you back, pressing the gun right against your temple and stared at Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve begged. “Please… I’m not going to do anything.”

“You better not,” the older man warned. “Let’s get going.” He nodded to his companion. “You and the girl go first.”

The younger man nodded, looking a bit annoyed by the order but he did as bidden. Dragging you with him, he reached the end of the sofa and stepped up behind you. He still had a fistful of your collar, and the gun was still pressed right against you. You stared at Steve with wide doe eyes as he marched you forward. Steve wanted to reach out and touch you, to comfort you in some way, but he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to risk either of you getting shot.

The man restraining him guided him back to allow room for your passing. Your eyes burned into his before you were faced away, propelled down the corridor of your apartment. The older man waited until you and your captor were at the other end of the hallway before nudging Steve. Obediently, he followed after your figure as you exited the front door and started descending down the steps.

The man holding Steve drew level with him, taking the gun from Steve’s forehead and pressing it into his side to hide it from view. You couldn’t really frogmarch hostages downstairs with a gun to their temple for all to see, now could you?

The man holding you had done the same, and Steve’s mind worked frantically as he watched your back as you walked down the stairs. He was unsure how to stop this with as little chance of damage as possible. Then it came to him. He had to act, before you reached the next corner. He slowed his pace slightly, and so his captor stepped just in-front of him, bumping him with his arm.

He turned to pull Steve forward. Steve launched himself into the air and kicked him full force. The man flew down the stairs, and as years of aiming the shield came in handy, slammed into his companion. Both of them went down and a clatter filled the air as the younger man’s gun fell down a few steps. You were knocked to the side and staggered forward, managing to stop yourself from tumbling down the steps after the others by falling into the wall. You let out a cry of pain but Steve had no time to check on you.

He was down the stairs in an instant. The older man had fallen on top of the younger and rose first. Steve punched him, hard, right in the face. This was followed by a swift knee into the man’s stomach. He doubled over in pain and Steve grabbed him, spun, and threw him face first into the wall. He went down, unconscious. During that time the younger man had found his footing. Pulling a knife from his belt he closed in on Steve, clashing manically. Steve threw up an elbow, blocking the attack and jabbed him in the stomach.

The younger man’s face twisted in pain but he did not react. Breaking away, the man launched a spinning kick which Steve just about managed to stop. He grabbed the assailant’s foot and twisted it. The man roared and Steve dropped his leg and moved in, sending a right-hook to his face. The assailant’s nose exploded with blood and Steve’s fist came back red. Grabbing him by the shirt, Steve pushed him back until he was flush against the railing. Steve lifted him up, full with rage and intending to drop him over and let him fall to his death. The cool metal of the gun barrel on the side of his head, followed by the familiar click of the safety was what stopped him dead in his tracks.

Steve’s head turned slowly, and the cold of the gun was nothing compared to the ice in your eyes.

You stared at him, emotionless, as you held the gun to his temple. Your arm was steady and you did not look hurt. Gone was the scared, shaking girl from upstairs. And gone was the happy girl he had shared his apartment and his life with. Someone else stood in her place. Someone he did not recognise. He did not know this girl, the one with the eyes like ice and empty, empty face.

“______?” he found himself whispering your name, not sure what else to say. His entire body felt numb.

The straight line that was your mouth dipped for a moment as some disconcerted expression flashed across your face, but then it was gone. “Put him down.” You motioned to the man he still gripped by the shirt.

Even your voice was different. There was an accent there that Steve had not heard before.

Steve’s head turned of its own accord to see what you were taking about. He had forgotten about the H.Y.D.R.A. agent he had been beating. He looked at the man in his arms, and though his head was lolling he could see his face. And then he knew why those eyes were so familiar.

He let go of the man, who collapsed to the floor, and twisted back to look into your identical ones. He couldn’t speak. Something was dawning on him. Some awful, unspeakable truth.

“You took your time stopping him,” the man at his feet rasped, standing unsteadily.

Steve watched as you turned and sneered, never taking the gun from his head. “You hit me harder than you had to, Nikolai. I wanted to return the favour.”

“Dearest sister,” the man grumbled as he looked at you with venom in his eyes.

There was a choking sound. It took Steve a few seconds to realise it was coming from him. You had told him you had no family. The noise drew your attention back to him, and those icy eyes met his once more.

“You have a question, Captain Rogers?” Your head cocked mockingly. “Is it not obvious?”

“You…” He could barely speak. His world was crashing down all around him. There was a tightness, a throbbing and a wrenching pain in his chest all at once and Steve felt like he was drowning. He felt tears pricking the corner of his eyes as he stared at you.

“You were so easy to fool,” you murmured. “So smitten from the beginning. I hadn’t even been in the office that day for you. I had been there to take another target. When you started talking to me… It was an opportunity like no other. My brother here was very jealous,” you nodded at the man you had called Nikolai. “My work with you got me a promotion. His fuck-up in Moscow got him a demotion… Go wake up Christophe!” you snapped at Nikolai, your face twisted in anger. When you turned back to Steve a second later your face was smooth and composed again. “It was not hard, pretending to love you, living with you, sharing your bed. Maybe I do actually love you, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. H.Y.D.R.A. is my truest love. And you are the greatest gift of all.”

Your smile was that of a fanatic. Steve’s stomach roiled and he almost retched. An insane gleam lit up your eyes and you laughed. There was a shuffling sound, and Nikolai and the older man came slowly back over to you. You looked at them with disdain.

“Pathetic little men. I let them beat me to make it all look real and I carry on. You land a few hits and they are out. Ridiculous.”

Nikolai looked like he was going to say something but Christophe stopped him. He bowed his head at you. “My apologies, lieutenant.”

You looked at him coolly and nodded once. Then you faced Steve once more. “We are going to leave, and you are going to come with us,” your voice was soft, assured. “You will not put up a fight and I shall tell you why. You are a broken man, Steve Rogers. Betrayed, abandoned, destroyed. I can see it in your eyes. What can the world offer you that will ever make that change?”

Steve wanted to fight. He wanted to knock the gun from your hand and run, to get out of there, but his body would not obey. He wished he’d wake up, that it would be all a bad dream and you would be sleeping next to him in your Superman pyjamas with your hair in a messy ponytail. But it was not a dream.

The gun burrowed deeper against his skin, but he still couldn’t make himself move. And then your hand landed on his arm, soft but firm. Warm. He stared at that hand, and despite the fact it belonged to the girl he loved who had betrayed him, he had nothing else and in his own broken way he loved her still. Or loved who he had thought she was, the ghost of a girl that lingered in ice cold eyes.

“Steve.” Your voice saying him name made him close his eyes and swallow heavily. “It’s time to go. Come on.”

He opened his eyes to see you hand the gun to Nikolai. Your now free hand slid into his, and you began slowly leading him down the stairs. He followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.


	23. Lucky's Lane (Clint Barton X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I started writing this fic as a oneshot, but I liked it so much and could envision further chapters that I've decided to turn it into a separate multi-chaptered story. I've decided to include a snippet of it in the oneshot's collection anyhow because I spent a while writing it and don't have any other ideas for a Clint story for this round, also I am shamelessly self-advertising. So if you find the excerpt interesting and you want to read more, if you go onto my main page you'll find the multi-story under the same name as the oneshot, "Lucky's Lane". It will immediately include a much longer first chapter, and then other chapters when I get time to write them. It's not going to be a long fic, maybe five or six chapters, but just a bit of fluff and fun.
> 
> *SPOILER for AOU* (though I don't know anyone who hasn't seen it at this rate...) Just to say that (unless stated otherwise), in all of my Clint fics Clint is NOT married, and does NOT have a wife or kids. My Reader is not a homewrecker!
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy!

You hadn’t been back there for a while.

You had moved away to the city, away from your parents and your hometown. Your new job had been demanding, so you did not get to return for a visit often, and when you did it was only short, and you mainly focused on spending time with your family. However, you had recently lost said job due to budget cuts.

Your apartment and the city were too expensive to live in while unemployed, and you had found it difficult to find new work. In the end, you had had to move home to live with your parents, which was somewhat dejecting. You had envisioned a grand future for yourself, and this was not it. It was disappointing.

And so, you headed back to your old haunt, a public woodland park, armed with your favourite book and a flask of tea. You used to walk your dogs here when you were younger. You went by yourself, as it was still day out and the park was always full of families, joggers and dog walkers.

It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day with barely a cloud in the sky. You had dressed in a pair of brown Timberland boots that you had bought with your last pay-check before you were let go, a pair of light blue jeans, a black tank top and an open red and white flannel shirt. You had brought a brown jacket which was tucked around your arm, as you didn’t need it right now. Your brisk walking was keeping you up.

You knew exactly the perfect spot to read on a day like today. Down one of the paths, a little way off of the open plain where the main lake was situated, was a tree stump overlooking a small river. Green trees stood proudly over it, and the water gurgled as it made its way by. It was a quiet spot, the water and the trees blocking most of the yells of the children picnicking by the lake with their parents, but not so isolated that it felt threatening.

It was nick-named Lucky Lane, due to the wishing well found further down alongside it. The nick-name was so commonly used no one knew its real name, or even if it had one. It was said that the wishing well truly did bring good fortune, and you figured you’d meander down later and throw a coin in. You could really do with some luck.

It was there you headed, to the tree stump on Lucky Lane, eager to have some alone time. Your family had been milling around you, obviously noticing your bad mood. While their attempts to cheer you up were appreciated, they really only made you feel grumpier. You weren’t a fan of pity. So you were happy to get some time to yourself outside of the house, where no one could come in with some transparent, made-up excuse to try to get you to do something.

You walked briskly, looking off to your left to see could you spy the tree stump. After all, it had been a while. You would have missed it due to the shrubbery, but caught it because you noticed the slight bend in the river which acted as your marker. You carefully trampled your way over weeds and plants, before sitting down in-front of the stump, resting your back against it. You adjusted your position until you were comfortable and took your flask of tea out of your bag.

Opening your book on your lap, you started to read. Occasionally you heard people talking as they walked past, but mostly you were uninterrupted. Your only company was the breeze rustling the leaves and the flow of the river. It was a long book, and you got around a quarter of the way through it before you decided it was time to stop. Around two hours had passed. You figured you’d nip down to the wishing well before heading home to help your mom cook the Sunday dinner.

So you closed the book, gathered your stuff, and rose to your feet. Dusting off your jeans, you looked around. It was definitely more overgrown than the last time you were there. The area seemed smaller than you remembered also. It was still lovely, all the same. Slinging your backpack containing the book and tightly secured tea flask over your shoulder, you began to set off towards the wishing-well.

It was around ten minutes of walking until you reached it. You passed a couple of other people as you went; a mother in jogging clothes pushing a buggy, an old couple with their little dog, and two teenage girls who were giggling and swaying a bit too much to be considered completely sober.

It was beginning to get a bit colder, so you shrugged your jacket on. You were glad of the extra warmth that it provided. The trees shook as cool wind blew through them. Winter was most definitely coming.

You saw the wishing well in the distance as you headed towards it, growing larger by the second. It was on the left hand side of the path, a faded brown brick ring with rusty red tin roof on top. The bucket meant to be lowered down was long since missing, and had never been replaced. What would be the point if preteens trying to act “cool” just kept stealing it. Compared to your spot by the river, it hadn’t changed a bit. It had been frozen in time since you were a child.

You drew level with it and stopped, running your gaze over it. Yup, apart from a few more pronounced cracks, it had not changed. You dug around in your pocket, fishing out the quarter that you had put in earlier. You stepped up onto the concrete ledge that wrapped around the fountain, and leaned forward to look into it. It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t see the bottom. You wondered if there was still water in there, but then figured it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you were banking on this well actually being lucky. It was more so on the off-chance it was lucky you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.

You held your hand out, coin sitting in your open palm. It hovered over the wishing well as you tried to figure out what to say. Your fist tightened around it, and you brought it back into your chest, holding it over your heart.

_Please let me have some luck. Please let things go my way. I just... I just want to be happy._

With that, you flicked your wrist forward, tossing the coin down into the well’s depths. You listened intently, and after a moment a very faint splash reached your ears. You weren’t sure why, but you waited for a moment, waiting for something to happen. You knew it was silly, a miracle wouldn’t happen straight away, but your shoulders still slumped a bit anyhow when nothing occurred.

Mouth twisting down in a disappointed grimace, you stepped down from the ledge and went to walk away. A loud bark interrupted you, and you turned and then paused as something brown shot down the road from behind you, past the wishing well. A dog barrelled towards you, yapping loudly as it did.

It wasn’t an aggressive bark, so you didn’t feel threatened. And you liked dogs, it was the perfect way to cheer you up.

Big paws kicked up dirt and some stones as it flew towards you. You stood there, expecting it to stop last minute. It didn’t. The dog collided with your legs without breaking speed, and you went down, letting out a startled yelp as you did.

You landed with a thud in the dirt, groaning as the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs. The dog, who hadn’t fallen, milled around you, trying to climb on you and lick your face. Unable to be mad, you just laughed as you attempted to push it off of you so that you could actually sit up again.

“Hey, buddy, just give me a second here okay?!”

You managed to fend the slobbering beast off just long enough to struggle into a sitting position. Your hands were pushing the dog away by its chest, and one of your fingers bumped into something smooth and cold. Getting a quick look under the dog’s chin as you gently shoved its head away yet again you saw that it was a gold name tag attached to a purple collar.

“You got anyone looking for you, bud? Let’s see what your name is,” your hands fumbled with the tag, trying to turn it around. The dog used the opportunity that one of your hands was busy to shove forward and lick your cheek. You had to laugh, raising your shoulder to rub off the wet drool from your face. “Ewwwww, not nice, okay? I don’t even know you!”

The dog suddenly stopped its affectionate onslaught and cocked its head at you. Now that it was still you realised it only had one eye. The good eye stared at you intently and you knew it was trying to understand what you had said. It sat down, still panting lightly, and you were able to flip around the gold tag to reveal a name.

_Lucky._

You jolted slightly, suddenly feeling a bit weird. You slowly looked at the dog, and then over your shoulder too the wishing well, and then to the dog again. The coincidence was not lost on you.

What the hell…

At that moment you registered shouting. Loud shouting, from further down the path that Lucky the dog had just arrived from. You watched as a man rounded the slight bend, running at full speed. His hands were to his mouth, and you could now make out what he was calling.

“LuCKY! _LUCKY!_ Where are you?!”

Suddenly, he caught sight of you, or more accurately caught sight of the dog seeing as you were half hidden behind it’s furry frame. His steps faltered a little, but then he kicked back into a jog until he was rapidly approaching you. You rose to your feet, not wanting to be on the ground when meeting a stranger.

The man had steely blue eyes, and slightly spiky brown hair. He was average height, but well-muscled with a cute, kind of scrunchy face. There was a small, white bandage over the bridge of his nose. He had laugh lines, and was overall very handsome. Sharp eyes flickered down you as he came over.

“Oh God, did he completely stampede you?”

You followed his gaze and realised that your jacket was sporting a new pattern of muddy pawprints, obviously from where the dog had trampled you after knocking you down.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” you smiled, looking down at the dog.

Lucky was looking from you to his owner, his tongue lolling out. His tail was wagging so hard you swore that you could barely see it.

“I’m sorry,” the man apologised. He leaned forward to clip a black lead onto the purple collar. “He just took off like a rocket. I guess he had better places to be than playing fetch with me.”

A wry smile was shot your way and you returned it, brushing your hair behind your ear as you did.

“It was no bother, really. He came along at the perfect moment in-fact.”

The man’s eyes slid to the wishing-well behind you. “Making a wish?”

You suddenly felt a bit silly under his scrutiny, like a child believing in fairy tales. You squirmed a little, tugging your jacket closer to you. “Um, yeah. Just in-case.”

“I did earlier,” he told you. “I won’t ask what you wished for, it won’t come true if you tell me.”

“Thanks,” you laughed. “I won’t ask either.”

“Thanks,” he grinned.

Lucky whimpered, tugging on his lead as he strained to get over to you.

The man eyed his dog with an arched brow. “He seems to really like you.”

“I like him too,” you said, a doting note creeping into your voice as you moved closer to the dog. You reached out to pet him, but then stopped. You looked up at his owner to ask permission. “May I?”

“Go right ahead.”

You stepped forward again, taking the dog’s face in both hands and crouching down closer to him. “Hi, puppy,” you cooed. “Why were you running away from your dad, huh?”

Lucky whined, and put one large paw upon your arm. You gave him attention for a few more minutes, before realising that the owner was still watching you. Feeling slightly embarrassed about using your baby-voice in front of a total stranger, you straightened up and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, shifting around awkwardly.

“You like dogs?” the man asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“I love them,” you nodded. “I used to bring my two here for walks all the time when I was younger. Before I moved. When they were still around.”

“I was thinking, I’ve never seen you here before,” the man commented. “We would come here fairly often.”

“I moved away, got a job in the city,” you explained. “My parents live just outside the town.”

“So you’re just visiting?” he inquired.

You had to laugh. Here you were, about to explain your shit situation to a total stranger. “Nah, I’ll be around for a bit. I got let go due to budget cuts. City was too expensive to live in without a job so I’m back here for the foreseeable future. Gonna retreat to lick my wounds and all that,” you waved your hand dismissively. “What about you? You must have moved here in the last few years or so.”

“Around three years ago,” he nodded. “I used to live in Washington. I had an incident in New York, and after that I just wanted some peace and quiet, you know? When I’m needed I go back, but I live here. Lucky and I like it a lot.”

“As small towns go, it’s not the worst,” you agreed.

He dipped his head in agreement, smiling at you slightly. You returned it, still absentmindedly stroking Lucky’s silky fur. This guy obviously took care of his dog as his coat was clean and smooth.

“I’m Clint, by the way,” he offered you his hand.

“Oh, _____,” you reached out and took it.

A slight tingle ran through your body, emanating from where his fingers touched yours. You didn’t react to it, and instead just returned his firm handshake. At that moment the touch of something wet had you yank your hand away, as Lucky had stuck his snout up into the tiny space between your hands and licked them. Clint chuckled a little at your shock, eyes glinting.

“He likes to be the centre of attention,” he joked, patting the dog’s head affectionately.

“I don’t blame him,” you smiled. “How long have you had him for?”

“Uhm, a few years now. I think he’s almost four. Or that’s what the vet thinks. He was a stray, I found him at some empty carnival site with his eye messed up and took him home.”

You felt a surge of liking for this strange man. It wasn’t every day you come across someone who would load a stray dog into their car, take it to the vets and make sure it’s looked after, and then give it a good home. What you had seen so far of this guy had make you like him.

And then there was the whole wishing well business, an oddity that you could not quite shake.

“If you’re not doing anything,” Clint interrupted your train of thought in a somewhat nervous manner. “I need to tire Lucky out a bit more before we go home. You could come play fetch with us for a bit, if you want? He plays chasing too.”

You debated it. You didn’t really know this guy, and you had been warned often about strange men in woods for the caution to stick. You examined his face, searching for a sign of something off. You usually had a very good gut feeling about these things, and your intuition wasn’t screaming warnings at you. His eyes were clear, and somewhat hesitant.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that,” he laughed as he held his hands up to try and appease you. “We can go play by the main lake where there’s loads of people in-case you’re worried. I won’t take offense, you don’t know me.”

You mulled it over for a nano-second more before nodding. “Alright then, the main lake sounds good.”

A pleased look flashed across his face before he masked it with a more neutral expression.

“Cool,” he shrugged. “Shall we, then?”


	24. High School Hierarchy II (Steve & Bucky X Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So going a bit away from my idea of doing rounds here, but I had this written and wanted to upload something. I had been asked ages ago for a part 2 to High School Hierarchy where the reader was old and Steve (and Bucky) go see her, and this is what I came up with. 
> 
> I know the tone changes very suddenly at the end, but I didn't want to leave it all sad. So apologies if it throws you, but a lot of writing I do is for myself, and so I write what and how I want! Hopefully you like it anyhow!

“I think I have a lead on our missing person,” Sam’s voice held barely contained excitement. “One of my contacts from New York just called.”

Steve froze upon hearing the words, his head snapping towards Sam. “He think it’s him?”

“He’s said he’s positive. Doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon though, he’s been in the area for weeks. I think it’s reasonable to say that there’s something there making him stay.”

“Anything of interest in the area?”

“Few commercial buildings, a museum, and a retirement home.”

Steve thought for a few minutes. Bucky could have been at those places for a number of reasons. He could have a target in the commercial buildings, he could be visiting the museum to try get a grip on what had happened in the world. Steve thought it was likely that in his confused state his old friend wouldn’t know that much about anything. A museum could be helpful. And for the retirement home…

His mind flashed to Peggy.

“Can you get me a list of all the residents in that retirement home?” he asked, and there was an anxious undertone to his voice.

“On it,” Sam nodded and turned on his heel to stride away. He had already pulled his phone out of his pocket and was dialling.

Steve turned back to look out the window, sighing. He’d been tracking Bucky for months but had had no solid leads until now. He was hoping this would pan out… He needed it to pan out…

Sam wasn’t gone too long, maybe an hour and a half at most. He returned triumphant, waving a few sheets of paper in-front of him. “Every resident is on the list. I figured we don’t know if he’d be interested in someone from the 1940s or someone he interacted with later on. So they’re all here.”

“Is there anyone on that list who would have been alive, or our age in 40s on there?” Steve asked in surprise.

Sam nodded. “Three. I got them to highlight those names for ya.”

He pushed the sheets towards Steve, who took them quickly. The super-soldier flipped through the three pages quickly, eyes scanning the words. Nothing on the first two struck a chord with him… Until he was midway down the final page, looking at the red highlighted name. His brow furrowed.

“Something catch your eye?” Sam enquired, leaning forward to look at what Steve was staring at.

“This name… It sounds familiar…” he trailed off, unable to place it at first. But then it came back to him.

_That abandoned loft._

_The high-school party._

_You._

He dropped the pages in shock and they fluttered slowly to the ground. He stared at nothing, mind working furiously. His hands clenched, and then unclenched.

_You were alive._

“Steve, are you okay?” Sam’s voice was filled with concern.

“The nursing home,” he sounded strangled. “That’s why he’s there. He’s been seeing… her.”

“Who?”

Steve bent down to pick up the pages. He couldn’t believe you were alive. He had thought about you before, wondered how your life had gone, but not too often. Not with all he had going on.

He found the sheet containing your name and pointed to it with a slightly shaky finger. “Her. We knew her in high-school. They were good friends.”

“That’s a good thing, right? He must remember her.”

Steve nodded, unable to speak. “We’ve got to go, now. We’re taking the Quinjet.”

Sam saw the look on his face and knew better to argue. “Alright, I’ll get it all in order.”

***

 

A few hours later, they were in New York. Sam stayed in the car outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. They knew Bucky was not here yet, so Sam was to keep an eye out and send word when he did show up. Sam knew that the whole “sending word” thing didn’t really need to be done, but he wasn’t going to intrude if Steve wanted a private audience with you.

Steve was nervous as he walked down the halls, bouquet of flowers in hand, with the nurse leading him towards your room. It was a nice home, well-kept, bright and airy. The walls looked like they’d been recently painted, and potted flowers and plants added splashes of colour to the clean corridors. He was glad you were somewhere like this.

The nurse had told him that despite being in your nineties your mental faculties were very much intact, and you were in relatively good health. Though you could get a bit crabby if cooped up for so long. He had informed them that he was a grand-nephew of yours who had just arrived in the city and figured he’d come visit. She commented on how lovely that was, and then made a remark on how nice it was that your other grand-nephew came to visit you so often as well.

The nurse stopped at Room 16, and gestured to Steve that they had arrived. The door was painted a pastel blue, and he remembered the colour of the bow in your hair at the loft party. It had been this colour too.

He was sweating, slightly nervous for some undiscernible reason. The flowers felt slightly slippery in his grasp, and he took a deep breath before reaching out to grasp the handle. He breathed out steadily, pushed the door open, and stepped into the room.

You were sitting in the bed, gazing dreamily out the window. “Remember to close the door, Bucky.”

Steve found that he couldn’t quite speak for a few seconds. The silence didn’t seem to faze you, and you continued to stare out the window at the blue sky.

Finally, Steve found his voice. “It’s not Bucky.”

You started a little bit, and then slowly turned to face him. You hair was white, your face wizened and wrinkled with age, but those bright, kind eyes were still the same.

You broke out into a sunny smile upon catching sight of him. “So you finally came to visit me, eh?”

Steve took a few steps into the room, unable to take his eyes off you. Even though you had aged considerably, he could still make out the 17 year old girl he knew in your features. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know…”

“That’s quite alright,” you settled back onto the pillows propped up behind you. “You have a great many more important things to deal with.” You weren’t being rude, you weren’t mad, you just said it matter of factly. “But I am glad to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he smiled as he stepped towards you. “I would have come much sooner if I’d known. It’s been a while.”

“Captain America,” you murmured fondly. “You look good, Steve. The years have been kinder to you than they were to me. Who knew the best anti-aging method was ice, huh?”

“We’ve both changed since we last saw each-other.”

“Yes… Goodness, that was long ago indeed. When was it?”

“Bucky and I came to say goodbye on the day you moved. A few days after the party.”

“Ah, yes. It was certainly long ago. You gave me a very nice letter. I still have it in my memories box in my house. A letter from Steve Rogers, Captain America. A nice thing to brag about at first. After you were announced dead… Well, I never let another soul see it again after that. Except for my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”  

“And a son. Grandchildren as well. I had a husband, I met him a few years after the war ended. He passed around twenty years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said quietly.

“Don’t feel bad for me, I’ve had a good life. Do sit down, no need to stand on ceremony.”

Steve nodded, and walked over to the bed. He sat down in the armchair beside it and scooted it forward to be a bit closer to you. You watched him, and then reached out a hand to slowly touch his face. You caressed it gently, eyes roving over his features.

After a few moments you dropped your hand, moving to return it to your side. However, Steve reached out and took it in his, bringing it back to him and into his chest. He leaned down and pressed his forehead into the top of your wrist, closing his eyes to breathe deeply.

Your skin was soft and warm, though he could feel brittle bones in it.

“It’s been difficult, hasn’t it?” Your voice was sympathetic. He nodded, unable to speak once more. He could feel a lump in his throat. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

And so he did.

For the first time since he had woken up, Steve poured out all the pain, confusion and anguish he had felt since he had been removed from the ice. He told you how terrifying he sometimes found the world around him, how he had nightmares, how he constantly felt that this life too would all be ripped away from him.

You listened in silence, nodding as he spoke. You never interrupted. When he finished he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

“I wish I had found you sooner,” he said plaintively.

“You still found me,” you reminded him. “You both did. I missed you boys terribly. I was so happy to hear about you… And when he showed up I thought I had already died and gone to heaven. I was wondering why Bucky Barnes was greeting me at its gates and not my husband!”

“So you admit he’s been here?”

“Of course I do, I may be old but I’m not senile. I know he’s running and that you’re tracking him.” Your eyes narrowed, suddenly turning hard as you looked at Steve warningly. “Don’t push him. I have this covered so far.”

“He visits you.”

“I’ve been helping him. His memory… It’s not great, is it? One of the few things he remembered was me. He looked me up and found out where I was, and he comes to see me every few days. I help him with recalling the past and tell him what’s real and what isn’t when I can. He’s doing well.”

“I just want to talk to him,” Steve said desperately.

“And you will, but not until he is ready.” Steve opened his mouth to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him. With the air of authority posses by a mother and grandmother, you spoke again. “Bucky is in a precarious situation. He does not need anything to upset him or throw him off balance. Your presence could very well do that.” Your eyes became pleading. “This is his safe space, Steve. He is comfortable with me. Please don’t ruin that.”

Steve wanted to argue. After all, Bucky had been his best friend since childhood. You had been friends. Yes, you had indeed been friends but you had just been his lab partner. You didn’t know him the way Steve did.

You must have read all this on his face, because when you next addressed him your voice was a deal softer and more gentle. “I may not know Bucky Barnes as you did, Steven, but I know this confused Winter Soldier a good deal better than you currently do. Do not interfere, or you could ruin all the progress I have made. If you want what is best for your friend, you will let me handle this by myself until I call you.”

He had to smile. You were one bossy old lady. “You helped me once. You made me feel at ease. Please do the same for him.”

“Trust me, I have practice with grumpy boys," you chuckled. “My son was a handful.”

“What's his name?” Steve asked, wanting to know more about your life.

Your eyes twinkled and for a moment you were silent. Then you spoke softly. “Steven James.”

Steve's throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. Despite himself, he felt a few tears prick his eyes and wiped them away. You chuckled when you saw, and patted him in the back with the hand that wasn't clutching his.

“We wanted to name him after good men,” you supplied softly. “You two immediately came to mind.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers.

“You're a good man. Now, will you fetch me a glass of water?”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, rising from the chair.

As he did, his phone fell from his pocket. He didn't notice it vibrating with a message from Sam.

Instead, he approached the cabinet and turned on the tap. He took a glass from the small shelf above the sink, and filled it up. After hesitating for a moment he filled up one for himself too.

Trotting obediently back to you, he offered you the glass of water. You smiled at him in thanks, and reached out to take it. Just at that moment, the door handle creaked as someone pushed open the door.

Steve turned at the sound. The glass slipped from your grasp and fell, shattering on the ground.

Bucky stood in the doorway, dressed in a black hoodie and denim jeans. His hood was up, hiding his hair and his face from those around him, but as he was directly opposite you both you could see him clearly.

His eyes blazed as he took in Steve there. The breaking glass jolted him, and he flew forward, hands outstretched. Steve's own glass fell and shattered on the ground as he raised his arms to fend off the man's attack.

Bucky ploughed into him, snarling with rage. His hands yanked at Steve, pulling him away from you. Steve felt his back collide heavily with the wall as Bucky threw him into it.

He was dimly aware of you shouting in the background, your voice high and hoarse.

Arms wrapped around his neck as Bucky lifted him up again. A fist smashed into his face and Steve saw stars. It hit him again, he felt his nose shatter. Dark spots danced at the edge of his vision. Bucky, face twisted in anger, drew back an arm to punch him again.

But he didn't.

Instead he froze as a small arm, weak and shaky, fell onto his bicep. Stopping him. His head turned jerkily, eyes fixing on yours as you stood next to him.

Compared to the Winter Soldier you looked so frail and weak, but your eyes burned commandingly. He could have tossed you aside like a rag-doll, but Bucky did not move.

“Bucky,” you snapped, as if berating a misbehaving child. “Let him go. Steve is your friend. You don't hurt your friends.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, digesting your words. Steve could see the cogs in his head turning rapidly. Your hand rose to cup the confused man's face. After a few more seconds he nodded shakily. His hold on Steve's neck released, and he fell coughing to the ground.

He was not too badly hurt, though his nose did indeed ache. He raised a hand to it gingerly, and it came away red with blood. He glanced up to see your back as you walked away from him.

Bucky was helping you back towards the bed, one arm slung around your waist while the other hand clasped your own. He was guiding you, holding you upright. Steve noticed that his touch was gentle.

You seemed to tremble as you climbed slowly back into the bed, your long night gown brushing around your ankles. You still held Bucky's hand, and Steve noticed you tug it slightly. Bucky obeyed your unspoken command and sat beside you on your bed, facing away from you and staring at Steve. The Soldier's back touched your shoulder, but you didn't seem to fear contact with him as your other hand came up to hang soothingly around his neck.

“Steve, there are tissues over by the sink,” you said quietly.

Steve nodded, rising painfully to his feet. He stumbled over and pulled a few free from their box, pressing them to his face. Afterwards he came to stand a few feet from the end of your bed.

Bucky’s position reminded him of a watchful dog, alert and protective as he positioned himself in front of you.

“James,” you said, using his first name. “Do you remember who this is?”

It took a few aching seconds for Bucky to reply. When he did, he nodded almost inperceivably. “Steve.”

“Yes, good!” You exclaimed.

The pride in your voice had him twist to look at you. He seemed deeply pleased by your praise, and noticably basked in your smile. It was like watching a child doting on his mother.

“Do you remember the party? We were in a loft, weren't we?”

Bucky frowned. “Yes. You wore a black dress.”

A sad expression crossed his face and he reached out. His hands were gentle as they traced the lines on your face, before they fell to slide through your white hair.

“Yes,” you chuckled. “I looked a bit different, didn't I?”

He nodded glumly, eyes falling to the mattress.

Obviously afraid of him spiralling, you spoke again quickly. “And what colour did Steve here wear?”

Bucky's eyes snapped up to focus on his former friend. His brow furrowed as he stared at him, trying to remember. What felt like an age passed.

Then he answered. “Red.”

“Well done!” You exclaimed, leaning froward to ruffle his hair. “And Steve was your best friend. He saved you.”

Bucky nodded again. “Until the end of the line.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled softly. “Until the end of the line.”

Bucky stared at him, seeming to struggle with something. His fist clenched. You noticed and leaned forward to whisper reassuring in his ear. Bucky's eyes narrowed as he listened, and he shifted slightly in his seat.

Steve waited, not wanting to rush him.

“Hey, punk,” Bucky said in a near whisper.

“Hey, jerk,” Steve felt tears fill his eyes.

“Do you remember Steve now?” You pressed.

Bucky nodded, and slowly rose to his feet. You watched him cautiously as he approached Steve. For a second the two men just stared at each other, and then Bucky lunged forward. His arms wrapped around Steve and crushed him against his chest, pulling him into a tight hug. Steve's arms went around Bucky's back, and he lowered his head into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered again. “Sorry for everything.”

“It's alright,” Steve mumbled. “You didn't know what you were doing.”

After a few more seconds, the two men broke apart. They stared at each other, small smiles on their faces. Then your voice rang out, interrupting them.

“Well, I guess you don't need me to stay like this anymore. Thank God. I was getting so _sick_ of nightgowns…”

There was something different about it… It seemed younger, stronger. A soft golden glow filled the room, and they slowly turned towards it, hands raised to block the light from their eyes. They squinted, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

Age flowed off you like water in a stream, disappearing in a blaze of golden light. The warm colour wrapped around your body, soft and carressing. The lines fled from your face, and the white drained from your hair to reveal the colour of your youth underneath it.

Steve felt his mouth drop open, and was dimly aware of Bucky stumbling backwards.

_This couldn't be happening._

He wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, it shouldn't be possible.

You raised a hand and smiled at it, watching the liver spots disappear and be replaced by healthy, clear skin. Then you raised your eyes and looked at them. He noted that they had turned storm grey and seemed to burn with intensity.

The golden light subsided as you stared at them, a wry smile curving your lips.

You stood in front of them, all coloured hair and unwrinkled face. Your stance was strong, any early tremors had fled with all your aging features.

You were young again.

Steve noted somewhat dimly that you were not seventeen again, the age you were when he last saw you. You were slightly older, no longer a teenager, but a young adult. Maybe  somewhere in your mid twenties.

You giggled a little at his look of awe, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

A voice saying your name got his attention.

Bucky stepped forward uncertainly. Wariness and happiness struggled on his face. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or mistrustful.

“It's me,” you reassured softly.

Your voice sounded like bells chiming in the wind. Steve felt the ground sway a little under him and had to reach out to steady himself against the cabinet.

_This moment had taken a hell of a shift._

You moved forward slowly, hands held placatingly in front of you.

“Why are you…” Bucky trailed off, his tone timid.

“I age at will,” you explained, as of it was the simplest thing in the world.

“So you're not…”

You shook your head. “Not anymore. I was going to fake my death and shift back but then Bucky found me. He obviously needed me as an anchor to reality so I couldn't very well… this is besides the point. It can be hard to lead a life when you don't grow up and age. It's how I manage fitting in.”

“I'm so confused,” Steve found himself saying raggedly. “You're not an old lady?”

“I was, but not anymore. It is indeed confusing, I know.”

“Who are you?” Steve asked. “ _What_ are you?”

You seemed amused. “I'm me.”

“And who's me? Christ, we met you in the 40s and you were seventeen. We met you now and you were in your nineties… and now you don't look older than thirty.”

“I'm twenty-eight at this moment” you supplied, seeming to think you were helping.

“That's… besides the point,” Steve trailed off.

Bucky had moved forward to stand in front of you again. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand and lightly traced over your face. You smiled reassuringly at the touch. Slowly, his lips curved upwards and he began to grin back.

“It's me,” you repeated softly, reaching up with your own hand to clutch at his. “I don't look as different now, do I? I'm sorry I didn't show you earlier. I wanted you to remember Steve before I tried anything…”

Steve found the strength to take a step, and then another. Soon enough he was level with you. You tore your eyes from Bucky's, and met his.

“Your eyes didn't look like this before,” he half-whispered.

“It was part of the glamour,” you told him. “This is how I really look. My natural stage.” You spread your arms proudly.

You looked comfortable, secure in your own skin.

“How old are you?”

“In this world, a couple of thousand years old.”

“In this world?” Steve's nose wrinkled in confusion. “Wait… are you an Asgardian?”

You giggled at that, a playful smirk appearing on your face. “Not Asgardian, but close enough guess. And you're right in the sense that I'm not from here.”

“You're from another world,” Steve clarified, hardly able to believe what was happening.

You laughed. “Out of everything you've experienced, is that so hard to stomach? Yes. I'm from another world... One that no longer exists.”

Suddenly, your face changed, fading from happy to one of immense sadness. Your eyes flickered down to the floor, and you bit your lower lip. Your hand fell from Bucky's to nervously twist around your other one.

“I'm the last,” you told them, and Steve didn't need to ask anything else to know what you meant.

“How?”

“Asgardians.” Your laugh was bitter, humourless. _“Her_. Hela. Goddess of Death and exceptionally bad hairdos. I escaped. I went into hiding.”

Hesitantly, Steve stretched out an arm and carefully draped it around your shoulders. His whole body was tense, as if expecting something to happen when he touched you. No shock or sudden attack occurred. Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.

He let you stay like that for a few minutes, until slowly you pulled away. You stepped out of his grasp, and your shoulders hunched slightly as you drew yourself to your full height.

You stared at them, eyes flashing.

“What about your children?” Steve asked. “Are they like you?”

You shook your head. “I guess I forgot to tell you I adopted. Little biological me’s running around may not be the smartest idea.”

Steve digested the information, shooting a look at Bucky. His friend was still staring at you in rapt awe and adoration, like a fanatic seeing his god.

_His anchor. Yes, that was true._

Steve swallowed. He was elated that you were young again, but also slightly wary. You didn't seem dangerous, and you had never threatened them, but he was still totally unnerved.

“Where are you from?” Steve pushed again. “Who are you?”

You hesitated from a moment, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ears. Steve got the feeling that you hadn't revealed this information in a long time, maybe ever.

Your eyes flickered from Steve's face to Bucky's, and then back again. You had appeared to be looking for something in their expressions. Whatever you sought you must have found, because when you spoke your voice rang out loud and clear.

“I'm from a world called Olympus. My name… My name is Athena."

 


	25. Colors (Pietro Maximoff X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so something I wrote on my phone today. Sorry for freaking auto correct mistakes. I have proofread but something I accidentally hit something in the suggestions and don't notice myself changing words.
> 
> So this oneshot is based on the whole "you don't see in color until you touch your soulmate" idea! It's short, sorry!
> 
> *WARNINGS: Character death, grief.*

You were helping Clint load people onto the helicarrier when it happened.

The whole thing had been total carnage. Ultron’s robots raced through the air, gunning people down, sending buildings crashing to the ground. Some of the hijacked Iron Legion even fell from the sky themselves, taken out by the thinly spread organisation of teammates around you.

You were glad that you couldn’t see in colour. There was a lot of blood, noticeable even to someone who only saw in greyscale.

Dirt and grime coated your body like a second skin, and every time you inhaled you coughed, feeling like your lungs were burning. You weren’t getting pure oxygen, just another whiff of rubble-clouded air. The air was getting thin as it was, as the slab of land you stood upon rose higher and higher into the sky.

You screamed orders and commands, herding people on board. You reached out, grabbing a women by the elbow and helping her over the ramp and into the helicarrier. She had a toddler clutched in her arms, a cute little girl in a puffy onesie. The child stared at you fearfully, and you tried to smile reassuringly. You knew you failed, you could tell it was more of a grimace.

Clint roared a warning, and you twisted to see a robot coming right for you. Immediately, your katanas slid free of the scabbards perched on either of your hips. The blades sang through the air, humming with electricity. A metallic shriek, followed by a loud tearing sound wrent the air. A robot landed at your feet, severed into four parts. With a look of disgust, you drew back your foot and booted it over the edge of the floating land mass. You watched it fall with satisfaction.

High-pitched screaming drew your attention, somehow standing out above the rest of the sounds emanating from terrified people. You turned again, this time peering into the crowds on board the helicarrier.

A woman was slumped against a wall, desperately howling in terror. It wasn’t the usual kind of scared screaming, it had a different edge to it. You could tell by the way that her eyes were darting around wildly that she was looking for something. _Someone_.

Your gaze caught Clint’s and together you twisted, eyes searching for something amongst the pile of rubble that once was Sokovia. It was hard to see, what with the dust, and the falling robots, and the fact that you only saw in black, white and grey.

 _There_.

You spotted a mop of hair, almost missing it at first. A child was dangling from something, maybe a caved in path behind him. You weren't sure, but you were certain that he was stuck. Only his head and arms were visible and he was struggling to pull himself upright and run for the helicarrier, but he couldn’t. His cries were lost over the sound of the engines and nearby explosions.

Without warning, Clint took off, running for him. You immediately followed. You were quicker than the archer, and caught up with him after a few paces. You threw yourself forward. Your outstretched hands slammed into his back, sending him tumbling to the ground with a Yelp of pain. Your steps didn’t falter as you raced past him, not even when you turned to scream at him to get back to the helicarrier.

You couldn’t let Clint go out there. It was too dangerous. He had a soulmate, two young children, and a third due soon. You had an empty apartment that was gathering dust, and a dead plant on your window sill.

It was a simple choice.

If one of you had to go, it would be the one that less people would miss.

You reached the child in seconds, collapsing to your knees. They scraped on the ground, and you could feel your trousers tear, the rough gravel drawing stinging blood. You bent down, putting your hands under his shoulders and pulled him up to you.

“Hey buddy, it’s alright,” you reassured him as you laboriously lifted his exhausted frame into your arms.

You weren't sure he spoke English, but you didn't know any Sokovian to talk to him in.

His head lolled back, eyes falling shut. You could feel him breathing, however, so you knew it was just a faint. You turned around, clasping his head with one hand as you prepared to make your way back to the helicarrier.

The roar of an engine from above had you raising horrified eyes to the sky. A jet bared down on you, racing full throttle. Its guns were blazing, bullets spitting up dirt as they slammed into the ground, rapidly approaching your painfully unprotected form. There was no time to run, nowhere to dive for cover. You swallowed.

_You were going to die._

So you did the only thing you could, and spun around, away from the roaring death machine. You fell to your knees, body curving protectively over the unconscious child's own form. You may not have had a chance, but you were damned sure you were going to give him one.

Bullets drew closer, until they were so loud that they hurt your eardrums and caused the ground under your to shake. Your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Suddenly, the world jerked. You felt a sense of vertigo, like the world was tilting, and a slap against your face as if a sudden wind had hit it. It didn’t hurt, it was just unsettling. There was no pain. You jerked, bit stayed upright.

The gunfire stopped. You waited to die, but nothing happened.

Your eyes stayed clamped shut for another second before you opened them. When you did…

You saw colour.

The first thing was the boy’s hair, a dark colour that you had never witnessed before. You started in surprise, almost dropping him. Then you caught sight of your hands, their actual colour. It was unsettling. You gaped wordlessly.

After a moment you became aware of breathing behind you. Your head inched around, until you came to face the pale figure of Pietro Maximoff.

He was standing slightly away from you, out from the cover of the over-turned car he had obviously moved you behind. He swayed slightly, blinking at you dumbly. In a split second, you took him in. The light hair, the nice eyes, the way all the colours on him seemed to work perfectly. Except for the deep stains growing on his chest.

 _Blood_.

It blossomed, growing grotesquely over his shirt. And suddenly, you knew with certainty what red looked like. You hated it.

He stared at you. A bit of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. It was in stark contrast to his pale skin. You couldn't move, just stayed staring back at him, eyes wide, chest rapidly rising and falling. Dimly, you understood what was happening.

“Well,” he said weakly. His voice was strongly accented. “I didn’t see that coming.”

His legs gave out without warning, and he collapsed onto the ground. For a second, everything else around him blacked out. All you could see was his still form lying in the dirt, and all you could feel was the deep ache in your chest that would have told you that no matter where you were in the world, that your soulmate had just died. Your ears rang, white noise filling them, blocking everything else out.

Hands grabbed at you. Clint moved in front of your face, taking the child from you. Your arms felt like jelly when his weight was gone. The archer's expression was sorrowful and guilty all at once. He said something but you didn't hear it over the white noise. 

Steve replaced him, shouting into your face, shaking your shoulders, trying to get you to do anything but sit on that ground and stare blankly at Pietro’s broken body. The Captain's face was awash with concern and sadness.

Unable to get you to react, he took your limp arm and looped it around his shoulders. Holding it carefully, he stood slowly, forceing you to rise to your feet with him. You didn’t struggle, just went along with what he did, like a puppet on a string. Bending down, he retrieved Pietro’s body, holding it carefully in his arms.

Awkwardly, he shuffled back towards the helicarrier until Clint ran back to help. The archer took one look at you, and gathered you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style back to the ramp. Steve could hear him murmuring reassurances.

You made no move to put your arms around him, just sat frozen, starting ahead as Clint carried you. The only thing Steve noticed was that your hands were shaking profusely.

 

***

 

They wrapped you in a blanket, and you didn’t speak. You didn't speak when they had landed safely nearby. You didn't speak when they had unboarded everyone. You still didn't even speak when they returned to New York. In fact, you didn’t speak for a few days. Until one day, out of nowhere, you did.

Steve and Clint were sitting in your room in the new Avenger’s facility, saying nothing. They wanted you to speak when you were ready, but they wanted to be there for you all the same. You just sat in your bed as usual, staring at the wall. They weren’t sure why Pietro’s death seemed to have affected you so much, but they weren’t ones to judge. They figured maybe you felt guilty. Whatever it was, the Ultron-incident had been a scarring one for all.

Clint was sitting in an armchair, staring out the window. Steve was leaning against the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. They weren't talking, and the usual thick silence filled the room. You shifted in your bed.

“I see colours now,” you announced suddenly. “After he saved me, I saw colours.”

These were the first words you had spoken since you had reassured that child in Sokovia. Seconds before Pietro Maximoff had died. They came out of nowhere, and neither man knew how to react.

Steve went completely still, and Clint swallowed heavily as the meaning of your words sank in. The armchair creaked as Clint tightened his grip on the armrests, the only sign of the intense internal reaction he was having. Steve's hands came out of his pockets to twist nervously in front of him.

“Pietro Maximoff… was your soulmate?” Steve choked out.

“Is,” you clarified calmly, turning to fluff the pillow behind you. “He _is_ my soulmate. You only get one, right? That’s how it works.”

You settled back and started at them, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Yeah,” Clint croaked, not knowing what else to do but agree. “That’s how it works.”

You shrugged almost nonchalantly, closing your eyes and humming to yourself. You didn't seem upset, just eerily calm. It was only then, in that moment, that your two friends finally realised what a deep level of shock you were in. They shared a horrified look, at a loss for what to do.

 **“** Sweetheart **…”** Steve trailed off. “I’m just going to go talk to some of the others about… something. Clint is going to stay here with you, alright?”

He shot the Archer a look. _Don't leave her alone._

“Yeah,” you nodded, humming a bit louder. “That’s fine.”


	26. Chicken Soup (Tony Stark X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, some Tony because I felt like Tony. I often forget how much I love his character until I get to write about him again. He's a lot of fun to write. If any of you read my other fics, almost all of them have some writing down for upcoming chapters, so updates are indeed on their way. I'm just not sure when, I haven't been able to concentrate on any of my multi-chapters recently. Writer's block is making a comeback. 
> 
> I said 'write' a lot there.
> 
> I'm fairly buzzing though, I went for an interview yesterday, and got accepted to a summer internship Which is amazing as my car always needs so much work done and I can finally afford it myself. I am so happy. The company also has such a friendly environment that I just can't wait to work there, and I got along very well with me to-be boss, so I can't wait to work under such a kick ass woman senior manager. Sorry I'm going on about this I am just SO HAPPY. I'm on the train on my way home now, been gone for like five days so I can't wait to see my baby puppy.
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the kudos, lovely comments, bookmarks and subscriptions. They make me not want to give this all up.

“I’m really sorry, Tony,” you said for what felt like the millionth time. “There’s just no way I can make it. I’m really si-”

Your explanation was interrupted by a heavy bout of coughing and spluttering, too intense and pained to possibly be faked. Your hand shot out to grab hold of the edge of the counter, holding you upright as you hacked and gasped for breath. Your head throbbed at the jerking motions your body was making. When it stopped you pressed your forehead down onto the cool countertop, groaning softly. The phone pressed to your ear was quiet for a few seconds as Tony took in the sounds of your distress.

When it had somewhat ceased, he spoke again. “Damn, you sound pretty sick. What’s up with you?”

“I think I may have the flu,” you answered, somewhat raspily.

Even though it was gross, you found yourself lifting your sleeve to your face and wiping your nose. You’d ran out of kitchen roll earlier, and you weren’t entirely sure if your legs would carry you as far as the bathroom to retrieve some toilet paper. You glanced down the hall and the world tilted around you. _Nope._

“You’re always so dramatic. Probably just a bad cold. Come to the party.”

You rolled your eyes at that. Tony could be such a little shit sometimes.

“No, Stark. I’m not well. I just want to sleep.”

Despite your fever, a sudden chill ran through you and you shuddered. Unsteadily, you pulled out the kitchen stool and sat down upon it, splaying your shaky fingers out on the counter in front of you. The fatigue and aches had set in in full force, and all you really wanted to do was cry.

“And I just want you to come to the party.” He sounded petulant.

He was used to getting his way. He was especially used to getting his way with you. _Spoiled brat._ You were 99.9999% sure that he knew you liked him, and you were just as sure that he would use that against you whenever he needed/wanted. Deep down Tony Stark had a heart of gold, but that didn’t exactly stop him from using whatever means he had in his arsenal to get his way.

Like right now, for example, as he begged you to attend a party that you were really far too ill to go to, he was sure to use his super-cute petulant voice. You had always had a weakness for that particular tone. Not today, however. Today you were too sick to really give a damn about how hot you found the billionaire.

“I’m not going to the party,” you responded sharply. You were starting to get angry, something that did not often happen with regard to Tony (or anyone, really, for that matter. You were always pretty patient). “I’m tired, I’m sick, and you’re giving me a headache.”

Before he had time to respond, and before you had time to comprehend what you were doing, you had yanked the phone from your ear. Your thumb slammed angrily into the ‘end call’ button, and the line went dead. You could hear the faint hum even though you were holding the phone pretty far away. You glared at it.

As if triggered by your look, the phone screen lit up once again as it vibrated in your hands. _‘Tony Stark.’_ The caller ID was accompanied by a contact picture, a selfie Tony had taken on your phone. He was wearing sunglasses, a blue striped racing jacket, and was throwing up a peace sign. Still irritated at his insensitivity, you scowled at the picture and declined the call once again. After a brief hesitation, you then turned your phone off before he could attempt another call.

You stared at the black screen, your face mirrored in its depths. Then you promptly sneezed into it, and then groaned loudly in dismay. You really needed to go and get some medicine, but at the moment you were far too tired for a trek to the corner store. Instead, you slowly heaved yourself back to your feet and unsteadily made your way down the corridor towards your bedroom. You sank onto the bed, weakly burrowing your way under the covers.

The curtains were not drawn, and the afternoon sunshine shone into the room. It was bright, but not bothersome enough for you to summon the will to move to cross the room and draw them closed. Instead, you just rolled over until you faced the wall. Squeezing your eyes shut, you got as comfortable as you could, and tried to sleep.

You fell into a deep slumber rather quickly. Probably because your body was so exhausted while fighting this sickness. You could have slept for hours, maybe even over-night and into the following morning, but the loud, continuous drone of the doorbell interrupted you. Moaning, you jammed your pillow over your ears and refused to move, hoping that whoever it was would get the message and go away.

No such luck.

Five minutes later, the bell was still going. Muttering angrily to yourself in a raspy, rage-filled voice, you clambered out of the bed. Your duvet came with you, draped around your shoulders. Your hands held the sides firmly to your chest, so you wore it as a cloak. The doorbell continued to drone, so you shuffled towards the front door, duvet dragging across the floor behind you.

Clicking the button to activate the intercom, you spoke tiredly. “Who’s there?” You were far too fed up to be polite.

“Your favourite person in the world.”

You let out a cry of exasperation, leaning forward to rest your head against the wall. _Goddammit, someone give me strength not to strangle him._

“I told you, Tony, I’m not coming to the party,” you bleated, feeling like you were going to cry. “Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?”

He obviously hadn’t expected that guilt trip, and when he spoke next he sounded taken aback. And also slightly… hurt? “Woah, maybe wait until you see me before you start throwing that heavy emotional shit out there.”

“You’re just going to try take me to the party if I buzz you up.”

“You know fine well that I’m waiting here as a formality. This building’s security is mediocre, even by apartment standards. I could have been up to your door ages ago. And besides, I’m not here to make you come to the party. I promise. Now, will you let me up? Please?” There was a slight tinge of irritation to his tone.

“Fine,” you relented despite yourself.

You knew fine well that if you didn’t, he would just come up anyhow. Instead of waiting for him by the door, you unlocked it, and then retreated into your kitchen area, crossing over into the living room part. You sat down heavily on the sofa, leaning your back against the arm of the seat. You readjusted your duvet, pulling it a bit tighter around your shoulders. It was now wrapped around you to resemble a cocoon rather than a cape.

You heard footsteps on the staircase outside the apartment, and then the door was pushed open. Tony called out to you, and you only grunted in response. He must have heard, or else have had a good idea where you’d be, because he strode into the kitchen a few moments later. He looked a bit pissed, but when his eyes focused on you, his expression softened. You sniffed slightly, not on purpose to prove that you were indeed unwell, but just because you were super congested.

Taking him in, you noticed that he held a number of white plastic grocery bags in his hands. Your brow furrowed, and you gazed at him questioningly.

“What’s in all those?” you asked.

“Orange, cherry, or grape?” He responded to your question with another question.

“What?” Your nose wrinkled as you tried to figure out what he meant.

“Orange, cherry, or grape?” he repeated, depositing the bags on your countertop.

You watched in confusion as he began to unpack them, placing various types and containers of food on the counter.

“Hey,” he drew your attention back again. “Orange, cherry, or grape?”

“What are you asking me?!”

“Popsicles,” he replied, pulling a box out of the bag and holding it out for you to see. “Meant to be a good thing to eat when you have the flu. They get some fluids into you. May help your throat too.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see how his eyes never left you. He was waiting keenly to see how you’d react. However, it took you a few moments to understand what he was waiting for you to respond to. Your eyes once more dropped to the various food types neatly stacked on your counter.

Two loaves of bread, a couple of packets of what appeared to be turkey, different kinds of soups, ginger biscuits, actual ginger, a box of tea, a pack of garlic cloves, bananas, apples, and pears. Among these, you noticed a fair few cardboard packets of tissue, a hot water bottle with the price tag still on, and some bottles of hand sanitizer. A massive bottle of 7up also sat on the counter, an equally sized one of ginger ale sitting beside it. Next to them, boxes of medicine were stacked high. Your eyes widened as you realised what was happening.

When you turned back to face Tony, you had to lick your suddenly dry lips before you spoke.

Your voice was shaky with emotion. “Did you buy all this stuff for me?”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. You could see how uncomfortable he was, and you were thankful that he wasn’t cracking jokes to cover it up. He seemed to recognise that there was something in the air, some electric tension that lingered between the two of you.

“Why?” You wanted to know.

He scuffed his shoes against the tile underfoot. Eventually, he looked up at you.

“I was a dick,” he said simply. “And… and I wanted to make it up to you. And make sure you were okay. I googled what to eat when you had the flu. This stuff was in the results.”

“This is too much,” you protested.

You felt a familiar tickle at the back of your throat, and before you could stop yourself you doubled over in a coughing fit once again. You spluttered, and next thing Tony was beside you. One of his hands patted your back, the other held your arm as he steadied you. Eventually, you stopped basically choking, and twisted your head to stare up at him. His brown eyes looked at you with unmasked concern.

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile.

“No worries. And _____?”

“Yeah?”

“You have dried snot on your face.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Face burning with embarrassment, you began to stand to get a tissue.

Tony’s hands were suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly back onto the sofa. “I’ll get them.”

He hurried back over to the counter, and grabbed a box of tissues. Opening it, he wet one slightly under the tap, before he returned to pass it to you. You thanked him, and then dabbed at your face, just under your nose. He gave you a thumbs up when you removed the tissue, indicating to you that your face was clean again.

“Sorry,” you apologised, still embarrassed.

While he may annoy you, you had the serious hots for this man. Him seeing you covered in your own boogers was not how you wanted him seeing you.

“You’re sick,” he shrugged. “You’re allowed to be kinda gross.”

You had to laugh at that. He gave you another fond grin, before bounding back around to the counter. Before you could tell him to leave it, he had started tidying away the food he had bought you. When you did tell him to stop, he ignored you. He only paused his tidying to give you the grape popsicle you had been promised. You sucked on it as you watched him.

Tony Stark in a domestic setting was something that you had never thought you’d see before. You felt like snapping a picture, but then figured it may somewhat ruin the moment. So you left him be.

“Do you want anything else?” He asked suddenly. “A turkey sandwich? Some soup? I got a lot of different kinds, as I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“I’m alright for now,” you replied softly. “Can I see the meds you got me?”

“Sure!” He moved to your side once more, holding the stack of packets precariously in his hands. “The lady in the pharmacy said this one was good.”

He tapped a finger on a purple packet of cold and flu medicine. It had five tablets in it, four to be taken at different intervals in the day, and the final white one at night-time. You removed your popsicle and popped the pill labelled ‘afternoon’ into your mouth. Tony handed you a glass of water, and you swallowed the medication.

The two of you shared a smile, and then Tony returned to tidying away the groceries. Once he had all the stuff packed into the fridge, he leaned back on the cabinets, studying you. His eyes met yours and he gave you a lazy smirk, winking as he nodded at you sucking on the popsicle. You rolled your eyes, feeling another blush rising to your face.

“If you’re going to start being all suggestive, I’ll encourage you to just go to your party.” It was a joke, but you felt it may have come out a bit harsh after all he had just done for you. Hurriedly, you amended it. “Thank you though, Tony. You really didn’t have to.”

“I’m glad I did,” he murmured. A sincere, thoughtful look crossed his usually smug face. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“I’m glad you did too,” you inclined your head, “but I don’t want to hold you back from your party. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

“There’s no party,” he replied nonchalantly.

He peeled himself away from the cabinets and crossed the kitchen, into the living room area where you sat. He plonked himself down onto the space on the sofa next to you. HIs hands wrapped around your calves, and he pulled your legs up to rest across his lap. Leaning forward, he picked the remote up off the coffee table in front of you, ignoring your surprised face.

“What? I thought you were having a party?”

“I was, but I cancelled it.” He turned on the TV, quickly flicking to Netflix.

"Why?" You pushed him again.

“Priorities,” he responded simply, still not looking at you.

“Hey,” you huffed, leaning forward.

Your hands shot out, and took hold of his face. You turned him towards you by the chin, and he didn’t resist. When he came to face you he was staring at you from narrowed eyes.

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “Now I’m going to have to disinfect my whole face.”

“What priorities?”

“You, obviously. You were sick. And you were mad at me.”

“You didn’t have to cancel a party for that, an apology and getting take-away sent to my house would have done the trick,” you joked.

He shook his head. “I was only having the party to hang out with you.”

_Wow._

You hadn’t expected that.

“We hang out all time,” you laughed nervously, reaching out to touch his arm. “What could have made you think you needed to throw a party to do that?”

He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “You’ve been pretty busy recently. You haven’t been around much. I figured if I threw this big event where you were kind of obligated to come then you would have to go.”

You shook your head, an amused, kind of exasperated grin on your face. “Your logic is so flawed.”

“It could have worked!” He protested defensively. “You were gonna come, but then you got sick.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” you sighed dramatically. It became a snort midway through as your breath caught in your throat.

“Attractive,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” you groaned, leaning further back into the cushions behind you.

You were suddenly very aware that Tony had begun to absentmindedly run a hand up and down your leg. You knew it was meant to be soothing, but you could feel goosebumps on your skin under his touch. Your breath hitched slightly. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“What do you want to watch?” He asked, continuing to scroll through the lists of movies and TV shows.

“I don’t mind,” you responded. “You pick. I probably won’t be watching anyhow. When I stare at the TV for too long it makes my headache worse.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “Do you want to go to bed? I can just sit here and you can shout if you need anything.”

Tony Stark was… offering to look after you? First of all he buys you groceries and medicine, and now he says he’ll stay to get you anything you need. It was like a dream come true, but you weren’t sure that you were comfortable with it or not. You hoped that there was no ulterior motive.

He noted your indecisiveness, and spoke again. “I… I could carry you if you can’t really walk.”

_Oh jeez._

“No,” you chuckled nervously. “I’m fine. I’ll stay here with you. But you don’t have to stay, you know that, right?”

“I do,” he replied simply.

“No, seriously Tony. I don’t want you staying out of some obligation where you think you need to make things right.”

“I’m not. I’m staying because I want to. Whether you need me or not, I want to stay.”

“I don’t want you getting sick,” you told him forlornly.

“Don’t be worried about that,” he waved away your concerns.

“Tony, I don’t want to make you sick. You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. If I get sick, I get sick.” He had turned to stare at you now, brown eyes holding your gaze.

“Tony-” you began to protest again, but you were cut off.

Without warning, he leaned across the sofa, closing the gap between you. HIs lips found yours, and he kissed you. You froze in shock as one of his hands found its way to your face, tenderly stroking your cheek. He tried to deepen the kiss, and you were too caught off guard to stop him. His tongue brushed your lower lip, and his facial hair tickled your chin. After a few seconds he drew back.

It hadn’t been an intense kiss at all, but he was still slightly flushed. His chest rose and fell, arc reactor shining brightly from under his t-shirt.

“What?” You managed to stutter out.

“Now I’m definitely getting sick,” he responded evenly. For a man who probably just contracted the flu, he looked pretty pleased with himself. “So you can stop trying to make me leave. Your apartment is now our quarantine zone.”

“You kissed me to get the flu,” you said slowly, almost explaining it to yourself.

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” he smirked. “I know you like me. You cover it well, but you’re no Natasha when it comes to secrets.”

You glanced down, eyes fixing on the carpet. Yeah, you’d dreamed of Tony kissing you. But usually when you fantasized about it you wearing your ratty pyjamas and in need of a shower. And in the fantasy he usually didn’t kiss you in order to get the flu. That part kinda sucked.

Obviously noticing your upset, he reached out. His finger slid under your chin, tapping it so you raised your head to meet his gaze. You were aware that your eyes probably looked more sad puppy than human, but you couldn’t do anything about it.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t get all worked up. Jeez, why do you look like a smacked kitten. I figured you knew but... maybe not? Wait, do you know?”

You shot him a confused look. “That I like you? Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“Oh!” He exclaimed in surprise. “You didn’t? Oh. Well. I guess that makes sense…” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking a bit self-conscious. It was unusual to see someone so self-assured look uncomfortable. “Well, _____. I like you too. Kinda figured that you knew.”

You were taken aback once more, so you said the first thing that popped into your head. “You flirt with everyone, Stark.”

“True, but I only mean it with you.”

“And how was I meant to know that?”

“You’re smart. I thought you’d figure it out.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you said, slightly irritated.

“Why are you getting all grumpy?” He laughed. “I’ve just told you that I like you, and came over with loads of stuff to make you feel better. I feel like I deserve thanks, not bad temper!”

“You’re unbelievable,” you shook your head. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I told you, I thought you knew. Now, come here for a cuddle.” He held his arms out.

For a moment you just looked at him with a level stare. He arched a brow at you pleadingly, and held his arms out a little wider. For a few more seconds you didn’t move, but then you relented. Rolling your eyes at him to convey that you still weren't impressed, you swung your legs from his lap and shifted closer. His arms closed around you, and he pulled you into his chest. Your head came to rest just beside the arc reactor, and you could hear the low hum of it, soft in your ear.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, head burrowing into his chest a little bit more. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad,” he pressed a kiss into your hair. “So, does this count as a first date?”

You giggled softly, amused despite how sick you felt. “Do you want it to?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled. “I think we’ve both waited long enough. My bad, I guess. I'm sorry. I suppose not everyone can be a genius like me, hey!" You had elbowed him sharply at that remark. He took a moment, and then continued. "Though when this flu crap is all over I’m taking you out properly. We’re gonna go to a nice restaurant, and you’re gonna wear a red dress and-”

“What if I don’t want to wear a red dress?” You countered.

He winced. “Babe, I have a set picture in my mind. Don’t ruin it. Plus, you don’t have to wear the red dress all night. When we get back to mine…” He trailed off suggestively.

You elbowed him in the side. “You’re insufferable.”

“Well you still like me.”

“That I do, Mr Stark,” you sighed. “That I do.”

You remained like that for a while, watching some action movie on Netflix (though not _really_ watching it. You were pretty focused on Tony instead. He seemed to be pretending to watch the movie, but you could see by the soft curve of his lips that he knew your attention was on him, and he liked it). The movie ended, and he gently disentangled himself from you. You let out a small cry of protest as he moved away, and he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Relax, babe. I’m just going to get you some more water. Do you want anything? I’m feeling like soup. Do you want some soup?”

Considering this for a moment, you nodded. Tony microwaved two bowls, and set one steaming hot one in front of you. He then made you a sandwich, saying that you also needed something heavier than just liquids. When he was all done, he returned to the sofa and you ate in silence, every so often stopping to share a smile.

“So,” you said lightly after you had finished your meal. “My apartment is the quarantine zone, I hear. Does this mean you’ll be staying?”

“If you want,” he responded, in equally as light of a tone. You were both trying to appear nonchalant at the idea. “I could go back to the Tower if it’s too much trouble.”

“No, no. Going back to the Tower might be more trouble. You can stay.”

He nodded. “Would I be staying in the spare room or..?”

“Whichever,” you shrugged. “You can stay in either. But just so you know I’m not really up to anything tonight…”

“I didn’t expect anything,” he replied, tone suddenly going serious. “You’re sick, I’m here to look after you, not for anything else. I know my reputation may say otherwise, but that’s not always what I’m about, you know… I care about you.”

Though inside you had always known this to be the truth, it was nice to hear him say he wasn’t there for anything else.

“Stay in my room,” you stated seriously. It wasn’t a question. “Or, if you don’t want to run the risk of getting sick…”

“I kissed you. I’m definitely getting sick. And I’m definitely not passing the opportunity to stay in your room.”

“Alright then. Sorted.”

 

***

 

One week later, you were in decent health again. A bit tired and unsteady, but able to look at sunlight without feeling like your brain was going to explode. Unfortunately, Tony was not. Three days after he arrived at the apartment, the flu took him down heavily and swiftly. He went through about three boxes of tissues in his second day of sickness, and wandered miserably around your apartment with wads of tissue twisted and shoved into his nose. It was… gross, but you knew how he felt, and let him do anything that made him feel a bit better.

Kicking open the door to your bedroom, you walked in, a bowl of soup in each hand.

“Chicken soup for the soul,” you announced as you sat down on the bed next to him.

He struggled up into a sitting position, groaning as he did. His hair was kind of greasy, and stuck out in all directions. It made him look kind of like a porcupine. Bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath them blearily took you in.

“I don’t even know where that saying comes from,” you continued, passing him his portion. “Or even what it means. But I like it.”

“You’re in a good mood,” he rasped, taking the food you offered him.

“I went outside,” you shrugged. “Had to do another grocery run. The fresh air was nice.”

“I’d like some fresh air,” he said wistfully. “Damn, I never thought I’d actually say that.”

“Well, maybe for our first outside date we could go for a picnic instead of to a restaurant,” you smiled.

“I’d like that,” he nodded, a small smile gracing his tired face. “Just please, let’s not bring soup. I’ve had enough soup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO I'm probably changing my username.. I made this one when I had zero ideas for another, and now I have one I kind of like. So if those who subscribe get an update notification from a name they don't recognise, it's most likely me.


	27. Wasted (Natasha Romanoff X Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fighting writer's block for anything except oneshots and Lucky's Lane. The muse can be a fickle thing.
> 
> Hope everyone is well. Thanks for all the kudos, comments, subscriptions and bookmarks! When I came back from my self-imposed hiatus it was pretty wild to see over a thousand kudos on this collection of oneshots. So thanks to everyone who took the time to encourage me in some way! I wouldn't have picked it back up without you.

It was sometime after 3am when it happened. 

Natasha was woken from a pretty decent sleep by some rapid hammering on her front door. She groaned, grabbing the duvet and pulling it over her head. That didn’t do any good. The knocking continued for a few more seconds, before it was accompanied by a loud scraping noise, and then another bang. Natasha waited for a few seconds as the silence stretched out. Just when it seemed like it was all over, the scraping started up again.

_ What the fuck? _

Natasha reached under her pillow, sliding the gun out from under it. She rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the cold tile floor underneath. Reaching up, she grabbed the black satin dressing gown hanging from the back of the door and shrugged it on. Slipping the gun into the dressing gown pocket, she didn’t stop to put on slippers, though she was indeed tempted to as there was a definite chill in the air. The scratching had all her attention.

She padded out into the hall of her apartment, and stared intently at the front door. She could see a shadow underneath it, blocking out some of the light from the corridor outside. The shadow didn’t appear to move too much, just stayed at the side of the door. The scraping continued. Natasha, who had her hand in her pocket, clicked the safety off the gun. 

Quietly, she approached the door. She leaned into the peep hole, but couldn’t see anything clearly. All she could make out was a blur on the left hand side of the doorway, low on the floor. She frowned. Slowly, she drew the bolt back from the door, and silently lowered it. The next part would have to be fast.

Natasha’s eyes went cold as years of training took over. She took one, single deep breath. Her hand shot out. She twisted the lock back, and yanked the door open. The gun was raised, her aim steady. Then she froze.

The person on the floor looked up at her blearily.

“Heeeeey,” you slurred.

Your eyes were glazed. A goofy smile was plastered on your face. You retracted your hand and she spotted glinting metal in your enclosed fist. The scraping sound suddenly made sense. She glanced at the door, and had to fight the urge to scream. Huge scratch marks ran down the door and frame, from where you’d repeatedly scraped your keys into them, and paint flecked the floor around you.

Even from here, Natasha could smell the drink off you. 

“I decorated,” you told her with a loud, obnoxious laugh.

Your head lolled back, smacking into the wall. It sounded like it hurt, but you didn’t seem to notice. Natasha used all of her willpower to stop herself from grabbing you by the jacket and shaking you.

If it was almost anyone else, she would have already closed the door and gone back to bed. If it was Clint or Steve, she would have called them a taxi, but not let them in. But it was you, and so Natasha did what she would do for no one else.

She looked at you, and sighed loudly. “Come on.”

Stooping down, she took one of your arms and draped it around her shoulders. You reeked of alcohol, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her other arm slid around your waist, and she managed to get you on your feet. She ended up having to half-drag you into the apartment, kicking the door closed with her heel behind her. 

She managed to get you as far as the sofa, before her ‘supporting’ you turned into her ‘100% dragging’ you. You fell face-first onto the sofa, and sprawled across it. Your arm dangled off the side as you smooshed your face into the pillows, legs kicking in the air for no reason.

“How much did you have to drink?” Natasha asked, going to the sink to get you a glass of water.

“I don’ knooow, I was with Tony,” you replied, drooling slightly on yourself.

“Tony got you drunk?”  _ Why wasn’t she surprised? _

“Yeah, he asked me all these qes-tons.”

“He asked you ‘questions?’”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of questions?”

“He wanted to know if he could watch. He’s so funny,” you chuckled. “He was already watching me drink, I dunno why he asked.”

_ Not what he meant. _

“Why didn’t you go home?” Natasha asked, unsure if you’d give her an actual answer.

“I wanted to see you.” You rolled onto your back, raising a flailing hand into the air and tracing invisible patterns. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” Natasha said evasively.

She returned to your side with the glass, and tapped your waving arm to get your attention. Your bloodshot eyes fastened on her, and you struggled to sit upright. You couldn’t quite get all the way there, so Natasha perched on the sofa arm behind you. One of her hands supported the back of your head, while the other tilted the water into your mouth. 

She was partly doing it to be nice, but partly to stop you from following that particular line of conversation. She hadn’t been busy, she’d simply been avoiding you. It had gotten… Hard to be around you. Well,  _ harder. _

You drank a bit, before making a feeble gesture to indicate that you were done. Natasha put the glass down on the sofa table, before turning back to you. She began to tidy your hair into her hands, smoothing it back and away from your face. Running her fingers through your hair brought back a lot of memories, and was painful enough, but it needed to be done. Taking a hair-band from her wrist, she carefully tied up your hair. If you got sick, she didn’t want you to get vomit in it. 

“Mmmm,” you let out a soft moan, a small smile gracing your lips. Your eyes were closed. “That feels nice.”

“I know you like your hair played with,” she smiled tightly, glad that you couldn’t see her face.

“Natasha?” Your voice was a murmur.

“Yeah?”

“We should date.”

She huffed out a laugh despite the pang that shot through her chest at your words. “We already did date.”

“Yeah, but like agesssss ago,” you complained, throwing your head back to meet her gaze through heavy-lidded eyes. “And only for a few months.”

It had been two years ago, and had lasted for four months. The best four months of Natasha’s life, though she would never admit that, even under torture. The relationship had been intense, it had been emotional, but at the end of the day, Natasha couldn’t properly open up. She had still had so many issues to work through then, and she just hadn’t been able, or willing, to let you in. That hurt you, and in the end you decided maybe you were just better off as friends. 

Of course, things were awkward for the six months afterwards. But stuff like that died down, and eventually the dust settled. At first you were able to hang out in a group setting, and then it got to the stage that you were able to hang out on your own. You were easy to smile, and there was barely any tension. But any time Natasha looked at you, she felt an ache in her chest. It only worsened the last few months, when you had begun to see someone else.

That was why she’d stayed away. It hurt too much, even for the Black Widow, to be able to deal with. 

“C’mon, Tasha,” you grinned at her. “We were good together.”

Your hands trailed up her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A smirk grew on your face, and Natasha had to swallow heavily. She rose swiftly off the sofa, putting some distance between the two of you.

“You’re really drunk,” Natasha deflected. “Come on, you can stay in the spare room.”

“What if I don’t wanna stay in the spare room?” You smirked, brow raised. 

“You’re staying in the spare room,” Natasha said firmly. “If you say anything else you’re going home. You’re making me a bit uncomfortable.” She was loathe to admit it, to show weakness, but it would be the only thing that stood a chance of stopping your flirting.

Your mouth opened, but then you froze. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Natasha sighed, running a tired hand down her face. “I know you’re wasted.”

“I’m not that druuuunk,” you protested, but the way your voice went all high-pitched at the last word gave it away.

“Sure you aren’t,” Natasha laughed. “Do you want anything to soak up the alcohol? Some toast?”

“Ohhhh! A grilled cheese!”

“It’s almost 4am. I’m not making you a grilled cheese.”

You pouted, suddenly looking extremely downcast. Natasha rolled her eyes. She managed to last a few more seconds before her resolve completely crumbled. Walking around to the grill, she switched it on and then grabbed two slices of bread. She put them on a tray, trying not to look at you.

The grilled cheese was made in silence. Natasha was feeling on edge anyhow, and suddenly she registered a slight chill in the air in the room. And just how exposed she was in the dressing gown. She tugged it a bit tighter around herself, and wished she'd stopped to put on something else.

_ There was nothing to be done for it now. _

When the grilled cheese was done, she turned to find that you were already fast asleep on the sofa. She debated leaving you there, but then figured it was better that you ate. You were gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning, maybe some food would help.

So she put the grilled cheese on a plate, and went over to tap you on the shoulder. You woke almost instantly, letting out a dismayed wail as you did. She seriously couldn't believe Tony had let you go home like this. She was glad you had gotten to her without incident, even if her front door had paid the price for it.

Still, she would have words with Stark.

You managed to sit up this time, eyes drooping heavily. Clumsily, you ate the grilled cheese. It was like watching a toddler snack, horrifying and messy, yet also amusing. You dropped it a fair few times, and Natasha grimaced as she saw grease stains on the sofa from where it landed. 

When you were done, she took the plate from you and motioned for you to stand. You grabbed the arm of the sofa in a death-grip, and struggled to your feet. Natasha once again supported you as she led you to the spare bedroom. Once more, you collapsed, falling onto the bed. Immediately, you started snoring.

However, Natasha wasn't done with you yet. Returning to her room, she went to her dresser and grabbed a pair of pyjamas that you had left there when you were dating. You knew she still had them, as you'd worn them on sleepover nights when you were just friends. She hurried back to the spare room, realising that she hadn't actually put you in the recovery position and if you vomited you could choke to death.

Luckily, you were fine. She managed to change you out of your jeans no problem, but getting your t-shirt over your head was a bit more difficult. In the end, she had to wake you up again and get you to lift your arms. It took around fifteen minutes of coaxing and swearing, but eventually she got you changed. 

Putting you in the recovery position, she pulled the duvet up around you so you'd be warm, and headed back to her own room. She left both bedroom doors open, she was a light sleeper and this way she'd hear you if you got sick or called out. Climbing back into her bed, she suddenly felt physically and emotionally drained. She was tired, and now she had your announcement of “we should date” running through her mind on repeat. It indeed took her a while to fall asleep.

 

*** 

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” a cool voice said.

You groaned, head pounding, and hid your face in the pillows. However, they were not your pillows. They smelled different, but they also smelled familiar.  _ Where were you? _

The entire night had just been a blur. Rich people alcohol was most definitely potent, and boy, had you had a lot of it. A hand pressed against your forehead. Your eyes felt like sandpaper, and almost glued shut, but you managed to open them. 

Natasha stood in front of you, a tray held in her hands. On it she had a glass of water, a steaming mug of what smelt like coffee, a plate of toast cut into triangles, and two white tablets. Immediately you reached for the pills, popping them into your mouth. Taking a swig of water, you swallowed them, shuddering slightly as you did. 

“How did I get here?” You rasped, lying back down against the pillows.

Natasha sat down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the mattress. She plucked a piece of toast off the plate and ate it. You waited. When she had swallowed, she finally answered.

“You appeared outside my door at around three in the morning. You said you'd been drinking with Tony.”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “That much I remember.”

“I took you inside and gave you water and a grilled cheese. Then I put you to bed. Couldn't exactly turn you away in such a state.”

Her eyes didn't meet yours, and you felt like there was something she was leaving out.

“Did I say something?” You asked, trying to keep your tone light despite the stab of panic going through you.

Over a year of hiding your feelings, and you may have let it all out in one drunken night. Stupid alcohol. And stupid,  _ stupid _ Tony Stark. You seriously needed a better best friend.

“You said a lot of things. You were drunk.” Her tone was forcefully nonchalant. “And you owe me a new front door.”

“What did I do to the door?” Your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“According to you, you decorated,” she told you dryly, though there was a hint of amusement on her face.

“Huh?”

“You scraped your keys into it. There’s marks and paint scratched off all over it. I think you tried to etch a dick but you were too drunk to do it properly. It just looks like an outline of Mickey Mouse’s head instead.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so freaking sorry. I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

“Oh, you better.” She laughed slightly, though she still didn’t really look at you.

“You gave me toast?” You enquired, knowing she wasn’t the nurturing type.

She shrugged, eyes focused on the wall. “You needed it. And it was grilled cheese.”

“Natasha Romanoff made me grilled cheese, now that’s something I wish I remembered!”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Briefly, her gaze met yours but she quickly diverted it. You didn’t miss the slight grimace on her face when she looked at you.

You couldn’t take it much longer and reached out, lightly touching her arm. “Tasha… Did I do something? You seem really off…”

She shook her head. “You said some things… You just hit a nerve, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry… Do you want to talk about it?” You asked hopefully.

She didn’t see the crushing disappointment in your eyes when she simply shook her head. So nothing had really changed, she still wasn’t willing to open up to you. You swallowed, feeling a warm lump in your throat as tears pricked your eyes. 

No one said anything for a few minutes, until Natasha sighed. She gestured to your phone. “You should probably call her and let her know you’re okay.”

She didn’t have to say the name. You knew fine well who she was referring too. You shifted awkwardly, taking a sip of water to avoid answering for a few seconds. 

When you did, your voice was quiet. “I broke up with her last week.”

Natasha froze, her shoulders tensing. “Why?”

You ran a hand through your hair in agitation. “She just… She didn’t want me to see you anymore. I wasn’t okay with that.”

Silence.

“Why didn’t she want you to see me?”

You groaned slightly, kind of wishing now that you had simply kept your mouth shut. “She didn’t think I was over you. And she didn’t think you were over me.”

“And are you?” Her tone has forced lightness to it.

“Am I what?” You avoided her question as her eyes bore into yours.

“Over me?”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable talking about this,” you mumbled into your coffee.

“Come on,” a bit of a smirk was growing on her face. “Do you still like me?”

“Nat, can we just drop it?”

“No. Do you like me?”

It felt like she was mocking you. _ Was that what she was off about? Was she feeling awkward because you had said you still liked her? Did you just ruin the friendship you had worked so hard for? _

“I’m just gonna go,” you said dejectedly.

She tried to stop you, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Your mind was somewhere else entirely. You climbed out of the bed, and took your clothes into the bathroom to get changed. Within a few seconds you were out, hurrying towards her front door. Her hand fell on your arm, but you shook it off. Your face was burning, and you couldn’t focus on anything except the hot embarrassment in your chest. You slammed the door behind you, not even bothering to turn and examine the scrape marks on the front door. 

You were halfway down the street when your phone buzzed with a text.

**Come back. I like you too. That’s what I was trying to get at.**

You stopped so suddenly the person behind you slammed into your back. You didn’t even notice them cussing you out. All you could do was gape at the phone. With shaking fingers, you replied.

**Is this a joke? Or are you just saying that to get me to come back?**

Another text came in immediately:  **Come back and find out.**

You swallowed, glancing around with wild eyes as you tried to decide what to do. Eventually, you typed back.

**Okay.**

Turning on your heel, you began to quickly make your way back to Natasha’s before you could completely lose your nerve. Suddenly, the hangover didn’t seem so bad anymore. You had reached the steps to her building when another thought, mixed with a rather hazy memory of a billionaire’s drunken request came to your head.

_ “Can I watch?” _

“Oh my God,” you gasped out loud. “Tony Stark is fucking weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is probably next. When I figure out what to write for him. The muse isn't too keen on Bruce either, it seems!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Really, Really Super Secret Intelligence Service](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571968) by [ChantelleVictoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChantelleVictoria/pseuds/ChantelleVictoria)




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